


Redemption

by Reyanth



Category: Gundam Wing, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Gundam Wing (Modern Gundamless) AU, Harry Potter AU (6th year on), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 94,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: Harry steps into a darker world after the events of Order of the Phoenix. Wufei is looking for a little redemption from his own dark mercenary world of assassinations. A chance meeting in the Muggle world crosses paths with a chance assignment in the wizarding world, bringing all the players together in the final plot to end Voldemort's second ascension.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, at a computer desk far, far away, I began this monstrous crossover inspired by a snatch of a dream. I vowed that I would finish it, and so I shall. Posted on AFF.net under an old author name, this fic lives again, here on Ao3, and I hope it will receive the same warm reception. If any old readers happen to stumble across it, I apologize for the years of delay but I had trouble getting into my account over there and eventually had it abolished, starting afresh over here.

Harry sighed and stepped onto the merry-go-round. Since returning to Privet Drive, this small park had become his favorite place to mope. About a day after arriving back, Sirius’ death had sunk in heavily once more. He was as good as alone now with no one around to cheer him up. Half of him expected Sirius to suddenly tap him on the shoulder and envelope him in a big hug, but the other half knew better. The other half knew that the older man was dead and never coming back. It knew that Voldemort had won this time. That evil bastard had finally gotten to Harry in a way that his parents’ death had not. This time, he’d been old enough to love the man who was killed; the man who was like a surrogate father to him. This time, it had been Harry’s fault.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a booming laugh, which he recognized. Groaning, Harry turned to face Dudley; he didn’t bother running. If Dudley hit him, then he was getting nothing less than he deserved for causing the death of the only person who had been close to a father to him. However, it appeared that Dudley and his friends hadn’t even noticed him. They were preoccupied with a small, dark boy, who was apparently ignoring them.

As the group stepped into the light, Harry noticed that Pierres seemed to be missing, and several other boys were sporting what promised to be heavy bruises. Could that small guy have been responsible?

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me, you little shit!” In a move of desperation, Dudley lunged forward and grabbed the Asian boy’s arm. “Now, you listen to me. I run these streets. Every kid out there is afraid of me, and I’m giving you a chance to get in on that. With those moves you pulled, no little punk would ever stand up to me and my boys again. Now, are you with us? Or against us?” 

Without a word, the boy executed a combination of movements, first ducking under Dudley’s arm which was still holding onto his, then smashing his elbow into the larger boy’s side before sweeping a low kick which laid Dudley flat out on the grass. “Lay a hand on me again and I’ll snap your wrist, followed by several other parts of your body. Any man who uses fear to get what he wants is weak and undeserving,” he spat, and walked away.

Harry stared after him, still unnoticed by Dudley who was wide-eyed in shock, lying flat on his back, nor by the rest of the gang who looked as though they were lost. Obviously, they’d never entertained the notion of someone beating Dudley up. He decided to make his break while the boys were still lost in confusion and swiftly followed after the boy who’d caused said confusion.

“Wait,” he called, once he finally caught up, breathing heavily from the sprint across the wet grass. “Who-who are you?”

“No-one to concern yourself with,” came the cold reply.

“I just want to congratulate you. You know, for getting Dudley like that. On behalf of all the neighbourhood kids: thanks,” Harry ventured with a small smile.

“You aren’t with that gang then,” the boy noted, stopping and looking at Harry from the corner of his eye. “My name is Chang Wufei, and that is all you need to know.” With that, Chang (or was it Wufei?) moved; his tone so final that Harry thought it best to leave him be for now. 

Even so, he determined to find out more about this new face in town before the summer ended.

*

It had been about three weeks since Wufei had first attacked Dudley. Needless to say, the teenaged boxer had not been happy, and had taken to relieving his frustrations by knocking Harry around. The smaller boy retained several tokens of this in the form of bruises and a black eye, but he did nothing to stop the beatings which Dudley would dish out whenever they ran into each other outside the house. 

Harry had spent many a night either crying in his room or combing the streets. He had run into Wufei a few times; occasionally being threatened, occasionally discovering new information. He had confirmed his suspicions that the boy was of Chinese descent and also found that he was a year older than Harry, confident in several forms of martial arts and smoked when he was particularly grumpy.

He didn’t know why he was so interested, but it seemed that Harry’s brief conversations with Wufei numbed the pain of Sirius’ death, for a short while at least. It wasn’t until one night when Dudley caught Harry watching the Chinese boy from afar that their true friendship began.

Dudley had begun by teasing Harry about being a fag and pining for his crush before landing a heavy blow in his gut. Hearing the loud guffaws from Dudley’s gang, Wufei had come over to investigate and found Harry doubled over coughing, Dudley beaming with pride. Before Harry could tell what had happened, Dudley’s wrist had indeed been snapped and he was howling in pain, the other gang members’ faces were pale and they were backing away from Wufei who was seething with anger.

“I warned you. Those who trade in fear are weak, and will always get what they deserve. Get the hell out of here now before I change my mind. And if I ever find you using your strength against someone smaller again, then I won’t hold back.” He spoke quietly but the tone was deadly and Dudley scrambled to his feet, clutching his broken wrist, tears of pain in his eyes. “Go!”

As the bully turned tail and ran, Wufei’s attention switched to Harry. “Are you ok? Not too badly hurt, I hope.”

“I’m ok. I’m used to pain. Especially Dudley’s kind. You shouldn’t have put yourself out for me,” Harry answered, his eyes averted in self-shame. “I’m not worth it.”

“Nonsense. That fat git had it coming anyway. Here,” the Chinese boy wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist. ”Let me help you.”

Wufei led him toward a small bench by the roadside, frowning disapprovingly at the bruise over Harry’s eye. “Why don’t you stop him?”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Harry answered. “But I don’t, anyway. I’m just getting what I deserve. If it wasn’t for me… Look. I’d better be getting home.” Harry stood carefully, suspecting a cracked rib and wincing when it was confirmed. If only he was at Hogwarts it could be fixed easily but here in the Muggle world, the pain simply served as another reminder of his stupidity.

“Harry,” Wufei stood as well, quickly pushing aside his confusion at the boy’s comments and focusing on more important matters. “If that overgrown pig does hurt you again, let me know. I… guess I’ll see you around.”

Harry made his way home slowly to find Dudley sulking in the living room. He’d spun some cock and bull story about falling on his wrists to save face about having his arse kicked. Even through his self-pity, part of Harry jumped with glee at seeing the state which Dudley was in.

From that night onwards, he and Wufei had met up around town and began to form a friendship that Harry found he sorely needed. Wufei could be the answer to ending his depression, whether Harry wanted it that way or not.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wow… It’s beautiful. I’ve never been anywhere in England besides Little Whinging and London before,” Harry breathed. He and Wufei were lying side by side on the grass, having left Little Whinging earlier that evening on Wufei’s motorcycle. They’d ridden together until pulling to a halt next to a clear stretch of open countryside, where the sky was visible for miles, bright stars shining unhindered by tree canopies or rooftops. “Thank you, Wufei. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Wufei smiled before his expression turned serious. “Harry, there’s something I have to tell you.” The gravity of that statement demanded Harry’s undivided attention. “I was too afraid of scaring you off to blurt it out and it never really came up naturally but want to be up front. That way, you can decide whether you’re comfortable with me... or not.”

Harry started to say something but Wufei cut him off. “No, let me finish. I-I’ll understand if you prefer not to spend time with me anymore. You see, I… I’m not…” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before staring fixedly at the sky. ”I’m gay.”

Harry watched him for a moment, trying to tell if Wufei had been joking, but ‘Fei wasn’t the type to joke. “Gay? As in, you like guys?” Wufei nodded slowly, not daring to look at him, so Harry said the first thing that came to his mind. “Wow. I never would have noticed. I don’t think I’ve ever met a gay guy before. At least… not one I knew was gay… not that it’s a bad thing, I mean… Ack, babbling… I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. Thank you.”

“You don’t mind?” Wufei asked tentatively, finally risking a glance.

“Well, I guess I’ve never really thought about it myself… I know I used to like this girl, Cho—Cho Chang, actually… Not a relation, is she? Anyway, I met her back at school and I liked her but she ended up dating someone else, and that’s about it. In fact, she’s the only person I’ve ever really liked in that way. Not that it matters, though… I’m over her now.” As he recapped that turbulent history, Harry felt the usual anger creep up inside. In an attempt to dismiss Cho from his mind, he turned on his side to look at ‘Fei lying next to him, and found onyx eyes staring right back. 

Harry found himself transfixed. He studied those dark depths as if they could provide an answer to the question which had risen with Wufei’s confession. Was there a chance that he, Harry, could be gay? For one brief moment, his eyes fell to rosy, dampened lips, and from out of nowhere came the strong urge to kiss them…

Reverting back to the stars, Harry called up a smile to belie the confusion and curiosity which were now battling within him. “No, ‘Fei. It doesn’t bother me.”

The tension drained from the boy beside him and Wufei smiled as well. “I’m glad we can still be friends. I don’t have many… Well, none really, aside from you. I’m glad you aren’t narrow-minded like the majority of human kind.”

“Hey, don’t be so cheery, huh? You’re a great guy and I’m sure that no one who truly got to know you could care about something so unrelated to the core of who you are and why should they, anyway? Human kind isn’t narrow-minded, just uneducated. You’ll see,” replied Harry.

A comfortable silence spread between them for a few minutes as Harry and Wufei retreated into thought. Neither was sure how long had passed when Wufei spoke up again. “So, what’s a girl doing in St. Brutus’ Center for Incurably Criminal Boys?”

Suddenly, Harry’s mind froze, going completely blank. “Oh, well… I, uh…” He paused, literally stopping his thoughts in their tracks. Should he tell the truth? Wufei was a sensible boy, very trustworthy. Not to mention the only friend that Harry had in the Muggle world. It couldn’t hurt to tell him, right? “I guess I need to make a confession as well. Although, mine is slightly harder to accept…” He cast a surreptitious glance at the boy beside him who was simply waiting patiently and smiling. “I don’t go to an-all boy’s school, not even a school in England or one that teaches Maths, English, and Music; at least, not as you know them. You see, I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Wufei laughed, immediately assuming it was a joke. ”Hogwarts? What a name… How on Earth did you come up with that?”

Harry smiled somewhat apologetically. In the back of his mind he hoped he’d made the right decision. “No joke, ‘Fei. I’m a wizard. Wand, broom, and all. The Dursley’s made up that other school so no one would know. They’re ashamed of having blood ties to the wizarding world.”

The Asian boy considered this silently, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I believe you. I know it’s a long shot, but I do. I can see that you’re serious, and I know you wouldn’t flat out lie to me. So, other than you being insane, which is beside the point, I have no choice but to believe that you are telling the truth.” He nodded, seemingly pleased with this conclusion. Until it finally sunk in past his logical perimeters, that is. “My god…. A whole hidden world of magic? Is that even possible? I know I just said I believe you, but is there still a chance to back out? How could such a thing exist without the whole world knowing about it.

“Magic, of course,” Harry answered with a smile. “I didn’t expect you to believe me so easily, though. Still, I’m glad. It means I have a lot less explaining to do.”

“Uh, of course… magic… So, what’s it like? You go to school and learn magic, right? At this Hogwarts place?” Wufei asked, looking awed, and also intrigued. 

“Yes, at Hogwarts. Wizards are invited to start there at eleven years old. Of course, I didn’t even know about the wizarding world until then….” Harry went on to tell Wufei the tale of his wizarding life from his lessons to his struggles with Lord Voldemort. Finally, he was able to talk about what he’d been feeling since leaving Hogwarts last year; Sirius’ death, the prophecy, and even the depression of life with the Dursleys once again.

Not being able to say anything in his letters, Harry had no way of communicating his feelings to Ron, Hermione, and… No, Just Ron and Hermione—he had to keep reminding himself. The truth was, however, that he didn’t think he could talk about this with them, anyway. Therefore, unless he wanted to approach the Dursleys, Harry could only brood alone and cry more often than he had done in his whole life.

Throughout it all, Wufei listened patiently, occasionally asking about some magical term or theory, but mainly just letting Harry vent as he so needed to do. When he finally finished, Wufei smiled sweetly and looked into his eyes. “That’s a lot for one boy to go through, Harry. You’ve had a tough life; living in a world of miracles and then returning to Privet Drive each year… I admire your strength. Very few people could handle life the way you have.”

“I could never have done it without my friends and Sirius, of course…” Harry replied before realizing what he’d said. He turned his face away as tears threatened to fall for what must have been the thousandth time, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

Tentatively, Wufei reached out and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry? I know I’m no match for your godfather, but I’m here for you if you need to talk… Let me help you.”

Going with the pull on his shoulder, Harry soon found himself shedding new tears into the other boy’s chest. The tears didn’t last long, though. They never did anymore. Soon, the quiet flow ended and Harry was resting comfortably in Wufei’s embrace, his cheek laid smoothly against a warm shoulder, and he savoured the musky scent which surrounded him. For once, Harry felt safe and content in someone else’s arms.

Reluctantly, he drew back, although, he was somewhat pleased to note that two strong arms were still wrapped around his body. He looked into those ebony eyes once more, and this time, he found what he needed. Without thinking anymore, Harry reached up and locked his arms around Wufei’s neck before tilting his face up to meet the soft lips which were descending to his own. The kiss was sweet and soft, and when Harry finally pulled back, his eyes falling open, he knew for certain that it didn’t matter that he’d just kissed another boy.

Wufei was hesitant to open his eyes in fear that once he gave in to reality, this beautiful dream would melt away. He did, however, and his breath caught to see that Harry did not appear to regret what had happened at all. “Harry…” he breathed, and lifted a hand to brush lightly over one flushed and beautiful cheek.

Dark, emerald depths gazed back at him, and Wufei couldn’t resist cupping his hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him closer for another kiss. This time, there was more passion to it, and Wufei felt his cheeks flush. His cold hands brushed over Harry’s hot skin, confirming that he wasn’t the only one. He smiled against Harry’s lips, his forehead resting against the other boy’s. “Do you regret that?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t care what the Dursleys or anyone else would—wait! What time is it?” Harry asked frantically, groaning loudly when Wufei informed him that it was almost two o’clock. “Shit! I’m dead if the Order finds out about this! I swear, the only reason I’m even allowed out of the house is probably because they’re having me followed again! I know that it’s dangerous to be me, but I can defend myself, and – “

“Whoa! Slow down, Harry…” Wufei chided.

“Sorry, ‘Fei. I’m just sick of being kept under lock and key, and… Wait a second…” Harry’s voice seemed to take on a slightly more dangerous tone with this last part and he scrambled to his feet, peering into the darkness. “Kingsley, Mundungus, Tonks, Moody; whoever it is, come out now. I know you’re there.”

Wufei blinked and looked at him sideways. “Huh?” he asked.

Then, “Hello, Harry,” called a voice from the shadows. Its owner stepped into the moonlight, grey eyes twinkling, and an amused smirk on his lips.

“Wufei, meet Remus Lupin, my old professor,” Harry said to him, without taking his eyes off of the old werewolf.

The Asian youth raised an eyebrow, taking in the dishevelled appearance of this new arrival. There was something he couldn’t put his finger on… He inclined his head in a respectful greeting.

“Hello,” Lupin greeted with a small smile and inclination of the head in return.

“So I am being followed again,” Harry stated rather coldly.

“Well I’d have thought you would assume so, Harry. You said it yourself, it’s dangerous for you, and –“

“Never mind, I understand. But… well… How closely exactly have you been-“

“I neither heard nor saw a thing. At least, not according to the rest of the Order. I’m here for your protection, not to spy on you,” grinned Lupin; his eyes twinkling cheerily.

“Good… I think…” Harry answered. On one hand, his fears had been confirmed; Lupin had seen and heard what had happened. But on the other, it didn’t seem as though he was too worried. Not even that Harry had told a Muggle all the secrets of the wizarding world. Was that the power of relief? Did Wufei’s helping Harry to smile again counteract the gravity of breaking such a taboo?

“Perhaps we should think about getting you back to the Dursleys. It is very late, after all,” Lupin suggested, breaking the silence.

“Uh, yes. Good idea,” replied the young wizard.

“I’ll meet you there. Don’t worry, those Muggles are too thick to even notice you were missing. Just be quick. Oh, and since I was caught, I don’t think it would hurt to have a little chat and catch up. See you soon,” the man answered before Apparating out.

Harry stood still for a few moments, trying to sort out his thoughts. He was still somewhat stuck on that last kiss; never mind that he’d been caught by none other than his old professor, was still being followed, and the fact that he needed to get back to Privet drive as fast as possible…

“Harry? Come on, let’s get you home. We’ll talk later.” The Chinese boy ushered him to the motorcycle and passed him a helmet.

They didn’t speak much on the ride back to Little Whinging. Harry’s mind was busy contemplating the events of the night, and he suspected that Wufei was doing the same. What did Lupin think of him? How was Wufei really handling the truth of his wizarding blood? Was he, Harry, really gay?

By the time they reached Privet Drive, Harry had not reached any conclusions other than the fact that, gay or not, he definitely needed to have that talk with Lupin, no matter how awkward it would be.

“You’d better drop me off here. The bike will probably draw attention to us,” he cautioned.

The motorcycle puttered to a halt and Harry hopped off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled, holding out the spare helmet.

“Of course,” replied Wufei. ”I’ll meet you at the park and we can talk.”

Harry was feeling happier than he had in a long time. “Bye, ‘Fei,” he called as the bike did a U-turn and headed back in the direction it had come.

As he walked down the street to the Dursleys, that small smile slowly spread to grin, and it wasn’t until he reached the front doorstep that it occurred to Harry it might be locked. He was about to check when the door silently opened and Lupin’s thin form led him into the house. Relieved, Harry headed up the stairs first, cautiously stepping over the one that creaked and motioning for the werewolf to follow his lead.

They reached the upstairs landing without hassle and Harry paused, listening for any sound that the Dursleys might be awake. Hearing only Uncle Vernon’s heaving breathing, Aunt Petunia’s deep snoring, and Dudley grunting about pink boxing gloves, he led Lupin into his room and the older wizard performed a quick spell to dampen any sounds they might make. Letting out a huge breath, he flopped back down on the bed.

Lupin watched the boy relax, feeling glad that he could do so. From what he'd seen, Harry wasn't doing too well.

"I... I suppose you saw..." Harry trailed off. Lupin simply nodded. "You don't, uh, have anything to say about it?"

Lupin paused thoughtfully for a moment and took a deep breath. "You're old enough to make your own choices and you have the right to do so. If you believe that you're attracted to Wufei then I honestly could not be happier that you've found someone who returns your feelings." He paused again. "I... also support you from my own personal perspective."

"You mean...-"

"Yes, Harry. I'm gay."

"Then, you and Sirius...?" The werewolf nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He was just as important to you as he was to me; perhaps even more so. That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about." Lupin stood and began to pace in front of the bed. "We haven't been able to contact you by owl or other means and I'm not supposed to communicate with you in person. All I've been able to go on is your outward impression. It wasn't until tonight that I saw just how deeply affected you have been. Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. At least, I am now. I've had to keep everything inside until tonight, but after talking to 'Fei I feel much better. I trust him even more than I do Hermione and Ron, and that is saying a lot," the boy was still smiling lazily and relaxing. "I'm really glad I met him, you know."

"That's good, Harry. I think you need someone in the Muggle world, and I think that Wufei is that person. He's definitely good for you and he seems like an ok kid. Even if he does have some delinquent tendencies," Lupin grinned mischievously.

Harry studied the wizard’s face, glad to find that cheeky gleam, rather than true worry. He knew that Wufei wasn't ideal as an influential being. He was rather rude, anti-social, sexist, and dangerous to boot, but to Harry he was refreshing. "I'll miss him when I go back to Hogwarts. It will be a long time before I can see him again."

"You'll still be able to talk, you know. And there will be plenty of opportunities to visit during Christmas. I'm sure I can arrange something." Lupin sat back down in front of Harry. "Everything will work out. You'll see."

"Remus?" The use of his first name caught Lupin's attention. He frowned, looking into Harry's eyes. "I, well, why now? I mean... I know I liked Cho Chang, and it's not like I've noticed any other guys before."

Lupin laughed. "You're getting older, Harry. Hormones change or develop. Who knows? Maybe you're attracted to both sexes or perhaps Wufei is just special. I suppose you'll know when you return to Hogwarts." Patting Harry on the knee, Lupin stood once more and pulled out his wand. "I should go. You need some sleep and Molly will begin to worry about you if I don't report back soon. Take care, Harry. I'll talk to you next time I'm on duty. Oh, and do be careful with what you do around Wufei. Who knows, it may be Moody watching next time, or Tonks. You know what a gossiper she is."

Harry grinned, just catching Lupin's wink before he disappeared. He slowly got up and switched off the light, only now realizing how tired his body was. As he rolled over and drifted off to sleep, Harry sighed into his pillow, welcoming the dreams of stolen kisses and soft black hair which would be forgotten with the sunrise.


	3. Chapter 3

“Don’t stay out too late, my little Dudleykins… Don’t forget about those horrible terrorists running around out there. Imagine! Daring to oppose Minister Khushrenada… I even heard that they’d been sighted close by and what hoodlum could resist the temptation of a good, upstanding citizen like my boy...” Whilst Aunt Petunia went on and on, dressing Dudley up for a ‘dinner party’ at the Polkiss’ place, Harry snuck out the back door. 

It had been a week since the night he and Wufei had shared their first kiss, and Harry had been meeting him every day since. Things had started out a little awkward at first, each boy hoping the other hadn’t reconsidered but soon finding that it wasn’t an option. A budding friendship blossomed into a loving relationship, and within a week, both boys felt so comfortable with each other that it seemed they’d been together their whole lives.

They spent more beautiful nights under the stars, quiet moments in the deserted park, and peaceful afternoons in Wufei’s back garden. Even so, they never touched each other beyond a friendly embrace or lingering hand on the arm. Harry hadn’t forgotten Lupin’s warning, and the next day, he explained to Wufei that although the ex-professor understood, there were others who wouldn’t. It didn’t matter to either of them, though, as they had each other’s company, and that was all they needed. Besides, Lupin was bound to be on duty some time within the next week, and there would be plenty of time for kissing and cuddling, then. 

Making his way to the park, Harry was startled by a hand on his shoulder. He was halfway through drawing his wand when he spun around to face Remus Lupin. Halting his actions and the spell that was on his lips, Harry sighed in relief. “Don’t do that! You scared the life out of me for a moment there.”

Lupin laughed. “Sorry about that. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well it worked,” Harry answered, a little disgruntled. A moment later, the feeling passed and Harry realized that this was the break he’d been waiting for. A grin spread across his face and he latched onto the older wizard in a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you, Lupin.”

Lupin snorted at him. “I’ll bet,” he replied.

The two began to walk together, instinctively moving further into the shade of the trees. Harry took a moment beneath a street lamp to survey his older friend. “You look worse for wear,” he muttered softly.

“It’s nothing. The last full moon wore me out. That’s all.” Even so, Harry saw a dark shadow pass over the man’s face and a faint wet glimmer in worn, grey eyes.

“You really miss him, don’t you?” Harry stopped suddenly and watched Lupin closely.

The werewolf was caught off guard by the unexpected question and stopped a couple of steps in front of him. “I… Of course I do. I still haven’t gotten used to him being gone again. So soon…” He closed his eyes to guard against unbidden tears and took a calming breath.

“I feel awful,” Harry murmured quietly. He closed the distance between them and drew the man into a hug. “How could I forget so easily? I’ve been so taken with ‘Fei that-“

Lupin pulled away and grasped the boy by his shoulders. “Don’t say that, Harry. Don’t feel guilty because you’ve found happiness. Sirius would hate to see you depressed for any reason. He always said so. It tore him up to know he couldn’t be there for you, and he wouldn’t want for you to be unhappy on his behalf. Now, you go ahead. You have tonight to be with the one you care about. What more could a person ask for?”

Harry nodded and smiled a little. He gave Lupin one last hug before continuing on to the park. He knew the man would be there as a watching shadow but he didn’t mind. Lupin understood, and that was all the permission he needed to spend time in Wufei’s arms. 

The Muggle boy was waiting on a swing. He stood up as Harry came near. “I thought you’d forgotten me,” he said with a smirk.

“Like that’s possible,” Harry replied. “Actually, I ran into someone along the way.”

“Oh?” One thin black brow raised in question.

Harry grinned. “Mmhm. Lupin’s here. We had a little chat.”

“I see.” Wufei’s lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile as he read between the lines. “Shall we, then?”

Harry took the arm that was offered him and they walked to Wufei’s house. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

They went inside and paused in the doorway after closing the door behind them. Wufei touched the tips of his fingers to Harry’s cheek. He’d wanted to touch the boy for so long, in more than just a friendly embrace. Softly, he cupped Harry’s face in his hand. “May I?”

Harry nodded, suddenly breathless. He felt as if that one point of contact was a lifeline, and he leaned into the touch. Finally, after a week of dreaming and remembering, Wufei tilted his face up and bent down just a little until their lips touched.

The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and soon they were holding each other, lips still pressed together lightly. Until Wufei’s mouth parted and his tongue brushed against Harry’s lips, seeking entrance. Harry obliged and sighed as their tongues came into contact. He savoured the moment, and knew that the half familiar taste and feel of this boy felt so right. He could never regret this, no matter what happened. It was time he did something for himself without the entire wizarding community looking on and passing judgment. 

Content in Wufei’s arms but still craving more, Harry’s hands slid down the other boy’s back and pulled him closer. The kiss grew deeper, and beneath the softness, there formed a strengthening lust. Their bodies were pressed tightly against one another’s, and Harry was feeling the effects. He moaned into the kiss as Wufei’s thigh pressed against his erection, and in turn, his own pressed back to find an answering hardness.

Drawing apart for breath, the two of them shared a longing look. Neither of them had ever felt so close to another person. Each knew what the other wanted, and yet, both knew that that would have to console them. It was too early to begin a physical relationship, even if they were both mature beyond their ages. Not to mention that Lupin was ever there as a shadow in their minds. It wouldn’t do to become so intimate with him looking on. 

Wufei took a step back and smiled. The unspoken agreement hung between them and he took Harry’s hand, leading him to the living room. They sat together on the couch in silence. Harry was trying desperately to get his body back under control and Wufei, who had already succeeded in this, was watching the boy with a sappy smile on his lips. 

“I’ll get us something to drink. Would you like anything specific?” the Chinese boy asked.

“Uh… I don’t suppose you have any butterbeer… No? Didn’t think so. Milk will do,” Harry answered. Once Wufei left his side, he sighed softly and rested against the couch. He knew they’d have to take this slow. No matter how much he’d been through, he was still a 16 year old boy and so was ‘Fei. Of course, when Harry returned to Hogwarts that wouldn’t actually be a problem. What would be a problem was being so far away from the boy he suspected he might be falling in love with.

Watching from the kitchen, Wufei noticed Harry frown slightly. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was thinking. The time was drawing closer when Harry would have to return to school. Perhaps now would be a good time for the surprise he had planned. He could tell that Harry had forgotten what day it was, and Wufei was looking forward to reminding him.

Harry suddenly wondered what was taking Wufei so long. He was about to follow him into the kitchen when the lights went out and the most unexpected thing happened. Through the darkness came a halo of candle light behind which Wufei appeared. He began to sing “Happy Birthday” and placed a cake in front of his boyfriend. “Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Harry blinked. He’d forgotten. This was… this was… Well, he’d never had someone do this for him before. “‘Fei!” he cried and jumped up, his arms locking around the boy’s neck. “Thank you so much! I’d completely forgotten.” Then, he pulled Wufei close and kissed him hungrily. “Thank you.”

Wufei blushed. He hadn’t expected such a reaction. “You’re welcome. Now, you’d better blow out the candles before the wax melts all over the cake.”

Harry laughed and did just that, but first he made a silent wish. *I wish that Wufei never has to face the dangers or see the horrors that I have.*

*

Lupin watched, forgotten in the shadows as James’ son was granted the first real birthday he’d ever had, and he smiled. At least Harry still had someone who cared for him and made him happy. Sirius would have been proud.


	4. Chapter 4

As the summer drew to an end, it occurred to Harry that it had been his first full holiday at the Dursleys since year one at Hogwarts. More importantly, though, he’d never felt so happy to be there. For the first time in his life, Harry almost regretted the thought of seeing the Hogwarts Express that morning.

He had convinced the Dursleys to let him make his own way to the station. That didn’t prove too difficult, seeing as they were all too ready to get rid of him that little bit sooner. So Wufei was going to take him on the motorcycle. At 9:30am he was greeted on the front door stoop with a quick peck on the cheek. His luggage had already been sent ahead by Lupin, so they took off for Kings Cross immediately.

Harry didn’t want to think about saying goodbye, so he told Wufei all about the train and the castle which was his school. Once he’d said all he could about those, he began to talk of things he’d already spoken of, such as Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Snape and who might be their next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Once they arrived, Harry realized he still had so much to talk about, and he still could not bring himself to say goodbye.

“’Fei? Will you come to see me off? At the platform?” Harry asked as they dismounted the motorcycle.

“Of course,” Wufei replied.

Beaming, Harry dragged his bemused Muggle prisoner off to platform 9 and 3/4 as he explained how the barrier worked. He wasn’t really sure if Muggles could pass through it so he held tightly to Wufei’s arm as they casually rested against the seemingly solid brick wall.

On the other side, Wufei looked a little surprised that it had indeed worked, and when he turned around to see the platform, his eyes widened to see the handful of wizards and witches in their robes with magical luggage floating behind them or some such.

Luckily, they were early so there were very few people around to take any notice of the Muggle in their midst, and since they had time, Harry decided to show his boyfriend around the Hogwarts Express. He was greatly rewarded by the smile which graced the Asian boy’s face as he took in this taster of the wizarding world. It made Harry wish he’d been able to take ‘Fei to Diagon Alley, but Lupin insisted on buying Harry’s equipment for him since he was staying at the Dursley’s all summer.

As they walked through the train, nearing the magical engine room, a loud squeak made Harry jump a mile.

“Harry Potter, Sir! Professor Lupin has sent me with a message, sir!” came the high pitched squeal from none other than Dobby the house elf.

“Dobby!” Harry cried. “Don’t do that!”

“Ah, and this must be the Chinese Wu-fairy,” Dobby continued excitedly as he took in the boy who was staring at him incredulously.

Harry blushed and corrected the elf once he’d fought back the giggles. “It’s WuFEI, Dobby. But how did you –“

“Professor Lupin told Dobby, sir. He said that The Great Harry Potter would have a friend with him. He also asked Dobby to show you your luggage, sir. This way, Harry Potter, follow Dobby.” The house elf grabbed Harry’s hand and both boys followed him.

Wufei soon regained his composure, arching an eyebrow at Harry. “The Great Harry Potter?”

“Uh, Dobby is a little… eccentric. I rescued him from Malfoy. He tends to, uh, overestimate me a little,” Harry answered.

“I see,” Wufei murmured as a smirk settled in. The Great Harry Potter, saviour of odd creatures. He certainly had made a fine catch, if a little strange…

Finally, they reached the back of the train and Dobby pushed open the compartment door. “Here you are, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will leave you alone with the Fae boy now. See you at Hogwarts, sir, and enjoy your surprise!” With that, he disappeared with a pop and Harry and Wufei were left alone once again.

“I’m almost afraid to ask…” Harry moaned as he looked around the cabin suspiciously. He was pleased to note, however, that although there was much more noise both inside and out of the train now, the curtains were closed to allow them a little privacy. “You know,” he said, returning his attention to the boy before him. “You look good with your hair out.”

“Why, thank you,” Wufei smirked. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“’Fei…” Harry whispered as he stepped closer to hook his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “It’s going to be a very long year without you.”

“I know, Harry. I’ll miss you too,” Wufei replied.

“Love you, ‘Fei…” Harry mumbled, pressing his lips against his boyfriend’s in a long and passionate kiss. He only half noted the familiar voice of Mrs. Weasley on the platform and completely missed the ginger head of Ginny Weasley peeking in through the door and then ducking away again with a huge grin. Nor did he notice the fact that it was strangely quiet down the back compartment corridor for a good few minutes.

When the two boys finally broke for air, they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment or two. Both of them knew that this would be their last time alone before Harry left for Hogwarts and neither wanted it to end. But, unfortunately, good things always do, and they soon stepped out onto the platform so that Wufei could meet all of Harry’s friends and surrogate family in the time left.

“Ah, Harry. There you are. Remus told us to look out for you,” came the warm voice of Mrs. Molly Weasley.

“Harry!” Hermione called as she ran to him, enveloping him in a huge hug.

“Hello, Hermione,” he said with a laugh. “Wow, you’ve gotten taller.”

“So have you. Oh, Harry. Ron and I have been worried sick about you. You hardly told us a thing in your letters and when we heard that you wouldn’t be staying with us-“

“Alright, Harry?” Ron asked, saving the poor boy from a long tirade with a slap on the back. “She hasn’t talked your ears off yet, has she?”

Hermione shot the redhead a filthy look and was about to retort but Harry just laughed. “Good to see you, Ron. ‘Fei, meet Ron and Hermione, my two best friends.”

“Hello,” Wufei began. “I’ve heard all about you two. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Hermione gasped, instantly jumping to conclusions. “Are you a new student? That’s so rare! People don’t often get accepted after first year at Hogwarts! Did you transfer from a foreign school? You obviously aren’t British. Maybe – “

“Hermione, this is Wufei,” Harry cut in. “He’s not a new student. He’s here to see me off.”

“Oh…” she said softly. “You aren’t a wizard, then?”

The answer was a shake of dark hair.

“You’re a Muggle? Harry, you brought a Muggle here?” Ron looked incredulous.

Harry suddenly felt irrationally angry, and immediately went on the defensive. “He has a name, Ron.” He emphasized his friend’s name for good measure. “It’s Wufei, and he’s not just some Muggle. ‘Fei just happens to be the only friend I’ve ever had outside of the wizarding world.”

“You can be so naïve, Ron.” Ginny sighed and glared at her older brother. “Please forgive him, Wufei; he can be a little ignorant at times. Personally, I think it’s great that you have someone outside of the wizarding world, Harry. Apart from those awful Dursleys, that is.” She stopped to giggle and wink. “He’s handsome, too.”

Harry had to fight down the blush he felt rising. He was saved by Mrs. Weasley, who caused a distraction with her return from the train where she’d been storing some snacks for her children and their friends.

“Mom, meet Harry’s ‘Muggle’ friend,” Ron said to her, receiving a glare from Hermione who picked up on the emphasis.

“Oh, of course! Remus mentioned you, dear. Wufei, isn’t it? Oh, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for keeping our Harry company over the holidays. I expect it must have been awful, what with... Well, now isn’t the time for that. Oh! There’s the whistle! You kids had better run along if you don’t want to be left behind. Off you go, now.” As Mrs. Weasley ushered them onto the train, Harry and Wufei shared one last goodbye before they were parted.

Harry waved vigorously from the window of their compartment and he already decided to write his love an owl as soon as the feast ended that night.

“So tell us, Harry. What happened while you were at the Dursleys this summer? Why weren’t you allowed to leave?” Hermione asked once Wufei and Mrs. Weasley were out of sight.

“Nothing happened,” Harry answered noncommittally.

“Well something must have. What? Did you not want to see us?” Ron asked, a little unsure of himself.

“Of course that’s not it, Ron. I just needed time. That’s all. I wasn’t ready to come back yet.” Inside his mind, Harry added, _and I’m still not_.

“It’s ok. I understand,” Ron replied quietly.

The rest of the journey passed with chatter about Ron and Hermione’s holidays. Ginny had been made a prefect and was off patrolling the carriages, showing off her new powers of office. About halfway through the journey, Luna Lovegood drifted into their compartment with Neville, saying that Malfoy had kicked them out of their own. Ron wanted to go after him but Hermione insisted that he cool down because it wouldn’t do to be expelled before they even reached Hogwarts.

The countryside seemed to stretch on much farther than usual and Harry found himself thinking constantly of ‘Fei. He didn’t snap out of his thoughts until they reached the Great Hall at Hogwarts and Hermione pointed out who was sitting in the DADA spot at the head table.

Harry gasped, and remembered what Dobby had said about a surprise. “Remus!” he cried, with a grin. His pensive mood brightene, and he waved happily up at his friend and mentor. He almost felt as though seeing Lupin were a link to Wufei. With this new development to keep him in higher spirits, Harry enjoyed the feast and thought of brighter things until it ended and the students all went off to their houses.

Once he finally got up to the dorm, Harry was withdrawn and waited until his roommates went to bed to write his love a letter. Harry wrote down how much he missed Wufei and said that he didn’t know how he’d survive a week, let alone a year.

Watching Hedwig fly away, Harry couldn’t help but pray that his summer hadn’t been a dream, and that his owl would be returned with a letter full of love to reassure him.


	5. Chapter 5

Wufei’s eyes snapped open and he rolled onto his side to see a white owl perched on the window sill. The bird was tapping on the glass pane with its beak and carried something on its leg.

“Come in,” he said, unlocking the window and pulling it up so the owl could come inside. “You must be Hedwig.”

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and lifted her leg so Wufei could take the scroll of parchment tied there. The boy unrolled the letter and picked up his reading glasses from the bedside table. As he began to read, Hedwig nudged his hand lightly, and he scratched her feathers unconsciously.

Dear Wufei,

I’m writing from Hogwarts, and I miss you already. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I don’t know how I’ll make it through the week, let alone a whole year. My friends are here with me but it feels as though something is missing without you. Remus is here. That was the surprise Dobby mentioned. [I think.] He’s going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts again. I felt a little better to see him. Somehow, it feels as though I have a sort of link to you when he’s around. You know, Cho Chang approached me today. I realized then exactly how much I really do love you. That reminds me. Do you have any long lost sisters? Joking. Although, she does look a little like you, and, of course, there’s the name.

Please write soon. I love you,

Harry.

“I love you…” Wufei read the letter a couple more times, and then smiled at Hedwig before thinking twice and lightly hugging her, placing a small kiss on her beak. She hooted indignantly and nipped his thumb, which made him laugh.

He told her to stay put for a moment and went to get a dish of water and some biscuits. Crumbling the biscuits in his hand, he left them on the window ledge and took out a pen and paper to reply.

“Please deliver this message to Harry for me,” he requested as he tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg. “Don’t forget to give him a little nip on the ear, though.” Then, he ruffled her feathers once more and watched as she took flight, presumably in the direction of Hogwarts.

Now that he was awake, Wufei decided it was time to get up. He took a quick shower and went into the back room to begin his morning exercises. The house he lived in was quite large, one of the few luxuries he’d had in his life. He had told Harry that he lived there with his parents but in truth, the house had been bought for him by O as a safe house in this part of England, and during the lull in missions, Wufei had set the place up as his residency.

Even with everything Harry had shared with him about his hidden life, Wufei could not bring himself to share his own. There was too much blood and death involved, and the young wizard didn’t need any extra danger in his life. Besides, it would endanger Wufei himself to let slip any intelligence on his organization.

He felt guilty though, and there were times when his mind reasoned that both their lives were constantly in danger anyway, but he couldn’t help feeling as though Harry were a precious gift for him to protect. He was lucky enough to have found Harry in the first place. If the boy ever found out his shameful secrets, then Wufei was sure he’d lose him, and he couldn’t bear for the one pure thing in his life to disappear, even if he wasn’t worthy of someone so kind and beautiful.

Realizing that his concentration was well and truly broken, Wufei replaced the sword he was practicing with on its stand and turned to the kitchen in search of breakfast. As he brewed a pot of Chinese flower tea there came a knock at the door. Pausing a moment, he wondered who it might be. Obviously, it wasn’t Harry, who was now at school. No-one else knew him here. Perhaps it was a salesman.

Just in case, Wufei drew a sword from his training room and placed it within arm’s reach beside the door. He heard muffled voices through the thick wooden panels and the doorbell rang once before he opened it. 

“Took you long enough, man,” crowed Duo Maxwell. “So, you gonna invite us in?”

Despite the usual chipper and annoying ring of his voice, there was a strained undertone and Wufei realized that the arm Heero had around his waist was not a casual occurrence but, rather, a form of support. A dark stain barely showed on Duo’s black clothes but Wufei recognized the scent of blood, and lots of it.

“Come in.“ He nodded, opening the door wider, and surveying the street.

“Thanks, buddy. I knew you wouldn’t let us down,” Duo responded with a grimace as Heero maneuvered him inside.

*

Dear Harry,

I miss you, too. I know it’s hard to be away from each other for so long, but we’ll make it. We just have to be strong. I’m glad Lupin is there with you. I know that he and the others will look after you. Not that you need it, of course, but it’s good to know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Give my regards to Ron, Hermyony [Is that how it’s spelt?], and Ginny. They seem like great people and I’m glad to have met them, if only briefly. At least I know you are in good company.

Take care, and don’t get into too much trouble,

Wufei.

P.S. I love you very much.  
P.S.S. Give my regard to that little fellow, Dobby, too.

Harry and Hermione were in Advanced Potions class. With the decrease in numbers, each student had a cauldron to themselves so that they no longer worked in groups or pairs. At the front of the room, Snape sneered down at them whilst they attempted a very complicated potion on their first day of term.

Harry, however, could not concentrate to save his life, which was fast becoming an issue, as his potion suffered immensely. All he could think about was the letter that had arrived that morning at breakfast. Hedwig had shown up and playfully nipped him on the ear, before giving up the message from Wufei, which contained several very important facts.

1\. Wufei missed him.

2\. [He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much but,] Wufei approved of his friends.

3\. Wufei loved him.

He already knew the latter but he needed such reassurances when his love was hundreds of miles away.

“Potter, the only reason that you are still in my class is because Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall insisted that you be eligible for Auror training. However, if you continue to perform so dismally in the future, my authority shall overrule any charity provided. I suggest you get your act together, Mr. Potter. It seems that you have already blown your one and only chance.” Snape stalked away, leaving behind a flustered and startled Harry, who had been so very rudely torn from his thoughts of Wufei.

He’d begun to brood over Snape’s cruelty when he was jolted with an elbow to his side. “You need to add more sage to counteract the wolf’s bane,” Hermione whispered to him.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. This is an advanced class and I will not tolerate cheating in any form, let alone your insufferable habit of showing off,” came the foreboding reprimand from the head of the class.

Harry groaned. It was going to be a long year.

“Let that be another ten points, Mr. Potter,” Snape continued with a sadistic grin.

*

“I would expect something like this from Maxwell, but I had thought that YOU would have more sense! What were you thinking? There are plenty of safe houses you could have chosen but instead, you brought him here where my cover could have been blown and all three of us captured at once! You aren’t even supposed to be in England!” Wufei’s glare went straight through Heero as if aimed at a brick wall, and that simply angered him more.

Duo was currently passed out on the couch and he didn’t even stir at his fellow operative’s rant. He had lost a lot of blood, and if they didn’t find a way to replace it soon, they would have to risk the public hospital.

“Five. Trowa and Quatre are already on their way,” Heero answered calmly.

“What? Why!? What the hell are you playing at, Yuy? You’re putting us ALL in danger!”

“Your place was the closest to where Duo was injured. I could not risk his life in traveling farther.” There was a hint of pain in Heero’s eyes that belied the stoic monotone in which he spoke. “Quatre and Duo share the same blood type. We need him here, otherwise, Duo will die. As for Trowa, he would have come anyway the moment he found out.” Wufei was about to cut in but Heero held up a hand to silence him. “It is best that the five of us meet anyway. The last message Duo and I got from J was to leave Ireland immediately and head for London. The same goes for the others. What concerns me is that several months ago there were rumors that Minister Khushrenada had allied himself with a powerful force. Whether this is true or not, I cannot say, but I assume that that is why we have all been called here.”

Wufei continued scowling for as long as he could hold it against Yuy’s impassive face. “Very well, you may stay, but on one condition alone.” Heero nodded briefly, his dark eyes narrowed. “Once Duo is healed and able to move, you will all leave. I have finally established some semblance of stability here over the previous months and I refuse to let politics destroy that as well as it has the rest of my life.”

Without waiting for an answer, Wufei retreated into the sanctity of his training room to work off the frustration born of G.U.N.D.A.M’s invasion into his personal life once more.

Guardians United in Naeutral Defence Against Mayhem (G.U.N.D.A.M) was a small (if long-winded) organization named after the historical legend of Gundanium Alloy. It was once said to be the toughest and most resilient material in the world. The five young boys had been trained separately by their own respective superiors and finally sent out into the world at 15 on their crusade against the underground Romefeller Foundation, led in secret by the British Minister of Defense, Treize Khushrenada.

Over the past year or so, all five teens had participated in a secret war, waged through sabotage and assassination. Only their direct enemy knew of their existence, though not their identities.

Occasionally, Wufei had come into contact with the other operatives of G.U.N.D.A.M, but he had always avoided partnering with them, expecting to live the life of a solitary warrior until he was taken out of the race. Then, Harry had come along.

Suddenly everything was different. He wanted Harry to be happy, and if that meant he had to disappear from his life of espionage and underground warfare, then he would do it in an instant. He never wanted anything to hurt Harry and an association to G.U.N.D.A.M would definitely be on the list of potential threats.

No longer alone, Wufei needed to make some adjustments if he intended to keep it that way. Once Duo was healed, he would inform the others of his resignation and sever his ties with the organization that had swallowed his childhood.

“Wu?” A weak voice called from the door.

“Maxwell? What are you doing up? Get back on that couch this instant!” Wufei hastily replaced his katana on its rack and wrapped an arm around the injured boy’s waist.

“Heero left to call Quatre and Tro from a payphone about an hour ago, and he isn’t back yet,” Duo answered. “I’m not worried. He can take damn good care of himself, but I got bored. Your house is so plain. I can only stare at one blank wall for so long, and with only four it gets old fast.”

“You don’t even shut up when your body is in mortal danger, do you? Look, stay here, and I’ll bring you some food.” Wufei made to get something from the kitchen but paused on a hind thought. “Do NOT move.”

*

Heero walked through the streets of Little Winging. So far, he’d walked at least two blocks and hadn’t come across one public phone. He desperately needed to get in touch with Quatre. The blond and his partner were currently in London awaiting the specifics of Wufei’s address, and if Duo didn’t get a blood transfusion soon…

He hated to admit it but Heero really did have a soft spot for the bloody baka, and if he died, well, things would certainly be a lot less interesting. Besides, it was HIS right to shoot Duo. Not some stupid informant who wouldn’t die properly. Heero had been threatening to do so since they first met, and he was a man of his word. He felt tears begin to sting behind his eyes but his pride was saved by whispers on the other side of the hedge.

“I’ll show that foreign bastard not to mess with me. If I can’t beat him in a fight, then I’ll use my brains. It’s his word against ours, and everyone knows that Gretchen’s is our favourite store. Why would we burn it down? He’s the one who’s always rude to people, and my dad said he saw him smoking. They’ll never even look past him.”

There was a chorus of laughter, which sounded strangely similar to the grunting of a bunch of apes. Heero reasoned that the voices he’d heard were probably those of neighbourhood thugs by the gruff, dumb-sounding tones, and considered it likely that the foreigner in question could be Wufei. He made a mental note to relate the conversation and was about to continue his search when the gruff voice spoke up again.

“Too bad Harry isn’t here. We could send the two love birds to prison together.”

Heero frowned. Love birds? He added that name to his mental note, even if it did seem less likely that Wufei was involved after all.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they arrived, Quatre had already prepared the instruments needed for a blood transfusion. Heero set up a seat next to the couch and they began the procedure right away.

Duo had been getting worse and worse, trying to keep awake but passing out several times. Wufei made him drink some boiled lemonade to up his electrolytes while Trowa held his lover slumped in his arms as the needle was injected into him.

He’d never show it, but the others knew that the solemn boy was terrified of losing Duo. They had not seen each other for the last four months, and to be brought together like this was not the ideal reunion.

Heero observed from the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the tube filling with blood that passed from one boy to the other. The flow of the dark liquid seemed to hold him enthralled, almost as though he were in a trance.

As if from far away, he heard his own name called. He became aware of the hand on his shoulder and frowned. He was usually aware of everything around him. Deep brown eyes were studying him closely. “Heero, are you okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, just… thinking.” He cleared his throat. “Plannig. Contingencies.”

Wufei nodded and plucked a glass from the cabinet. He’d noticed how Heero stared at Duo when he thought no one was looking; he’d seen first-hand how frightened the normally stoic boy had been that Duo might die. Wufei knew that if Heero wasn’t careful, he’d get hurt—not physically, but a broken heart was just as bad if not worse. 

By the time Wufei returned with more boiled lemonade, this time for Quatre, the blond had given as much as he could and probably a little more than he should have. Gratefully, the donor accepted the sweet drink.

“Are you okay, Winner?” Wufei asked him.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just hope Duo will be,” he replied with a touch of worry in his eyes.

“I’m sure he will. Thanks to you,” Trowa replied, his eyes on the sleeping boy in his arms.

“Good… Don’t be afraid to take what food and drink you want. I’m going out for a while,” Wufei stated abruptly, grabbing his leather jacket from a hook by the front door. “I’ll be back within two hours at the most.”

He needed to get out. The house was just too full for his liking, and the only person he was used to interacting with was Harry. Besides, Wufei had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on Dudley and his group of hooligans until they went back to school next week.

Pulling on his jacket, he decided to head to the park. It was quiet there and one of the most likely places to be empty at night, as most of the locals didn’t like to hang around after dark. Pulling out a cigarette, he was about to light it when Heero called out to him.

“Wait. I need to talk to you.” Yuy easily caught up to him and began to walk alongside him. “When I was out earlier, I heard some boys talking. At first, I thought they were speaking about you. They sounded big and stupid, and mentioned burning down a store and framing someone for it.”

“Dudley Dursley,” Wufei replied. “Don’t worry. They’d never have the brains to pull it off. He’s just sore that I kicked his arse, and rejected his gang in favour of Harry.”

“Harry?” Heero asked, narrowing his eyes. “They mentioned him, too.”

“Harry Potter. Dudley’s cousin. He has returned to school now.”

“I see.” Heero stored that information away, and then changed the topic, picking up on the cigarette and lighter in Wufei’s hands. “You smoke?”

“Occasionally.” Lighting up, the Chinese boy took a long drag, closing his eyes as the smoke drifted past.

“It’s not good for your health.”

“Neither is being part of a secret organization whose sole purpose is to win a war of sabotage and assassination.”

“You have a point.”

“Mmhm.”

“Got one for me?”

“Suicidal, a statement, or suppression?”

“All, and none, of the above. I’m gonna die anyway. Most likely very soon. I may as well indulge in a form of false behavioural modification before it happens.”

“Ahhh. Depression… Duo?”

“Hn.”

“Thought so.”

“Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Hn.”

They reached the park and sat on the pair of rusty swings by the small yellow slide.

“This stuff is disgusting. Why would anyone willingly smoke? I’ll never understand,” Heero grumbled and, coughing, spat on the ground.

“Many members of the Dragon Clan were once addicted to opium. The taste of tobacco is an acquired one which I grew up with—the lesser of the evils.” He looked sideways at Heero, who was still holding the cigarette between his fingers. “I notice you haven’t thrown it away.”

“It has calming effect,” the Japanese boy answered softly.

“Ahhh, the first sign of addiction. Welcome to the damned.”

“If they’re so bloody addictive, then why did you let me have one?”

“You asked. Far be it from me to argue.”

“Bastard.”

“You only just realized this?”

“…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Wufei dropped the butt and stamped it into the ground.

“You’ve never given us a chance to figure it out,” Heero ventured cautiously, glancing sidelong at Wufei. “In fact, this is the first time you’ve opened up even a little. What changed?”

“Harry. He made me realize that it can be worth getting to know people.”

“Are… You and Harry, are you…?”

“We’re together, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yes…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a while. “I’m happy for you, Wufei. You’ve got the chance to be happy.”

“You’ll find someone, Yuy. Maxwell may be taken, but there are others out there for you. It takes time for some of us to find that special someone, but it will happen one day.”

“He must really be something,” Heero answered. “I never figured you for the romantic type.”

“Tell a soul, and I will kill you.” Heero just smirked and copied Wufei’s actions, frowning as he stamped out the cigarette. “Yuy… Perhaps I should give some warning… Once the four of you are ready to leave, I intend to quit.”

“Smoking?” Heero asked uninterested.

“No. G.U.N.D.A.M.” That got his attention, Heero’s head snapping up in concern.

“I do not wish to place Harry in any further danger. He has already had a difficult life, and I want to be with him, to help him. He’s been through so much lately, and G.U.N.D.A.M. is just too much of a risk. I’ve found something to live for. There’s no need for the destructive life any longer.”

“They’ll never let you go. You know too much.” Heero’s eyes were trained on the other boy, almost trying to see into his soul. “What makes you think you can get away?”

“I am going to disappear. Where I intend to go, I will not be found.” With that, he stood, stretched his limbs, and began the return walk home. As an afterthought, he added, “Do not attempt to find me. There will be no trace to follow.”

Heero watched the boy walk away. He didn’t protest, knowing that Wufei was right and nothing would change his mind. If he was set on leaving then nothing short of execution would stop him. All in good time… The orders would come to Heero. None of the others would be able to put aside their feelings so easily. Thankfully, by then, his target would be gone and there would be no Chang Wufei to assassinate.

*

Treize sipped elegantly at his fine red wine. On the vid-screen before him, the dark wizard was receiving a message from one of the servants he called Death Eaters. So eloquent…

“My lord,” Voldemort began as the robed figure left his sight. “All goes according to plan. Soon, both our enemies shall be eliminated, and your path of domination will be clear. Your reign will be as the old days of king and his sorcerer, only this time, you will be ‘emperor.’”

“Do not be so hasty, Voldemort, for that has been your mistake in the past. Harry Potter continues to elude you, and will continue to do so until you learn to tread carefully. Fail this time, and your life may hang in the balance.”

“My lord, this time, with our combined forces we cannot fail. Once Harry Potter is destroyed, I shall be feared by all the wizarding community, and those who oppose me will be annihilated. With the entire world of magic at your feet, the universe itself will have no choice but to submit to your will,” hissed the dark wizard.

“Very well, Voldemort. I will hold you to your word.” Treize cut the line and the screen went blank. He was about to send for Zechs when there came a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called. A tall figure entered the room and closed the door carefully behind him. “Ah, Milliardo.”

Zechs’ eyes narrowed slightly at the name, but there was no other sign of his displeasure. “I wish you would not call me that, sir.”

“Why do you still deny your heritage?” Sighing, the former general placed his wine glass on the table. “What is it, my friend?”

“There have been reports, sir, that the leaders of G.U.N.D.A.M have discovered your alliance within the wizarding world. If these rumors are true, then the enemy will soon set out to guard your dark wizard’s target.” Despite Treize’s laps into casualty, Zechs held to the formalities he’d been taught as a soldier. “What are your orders?”

“Let them come. If the fox takes the bait, there is no need for the dogs,” the senator answered.

Zechs watched his friend as a sadistic smile crept across his face. “Treize…?” 

“The time has come, Milliardo. You will return to your world and be my eyes within the halls of Hogwarts.” Without looking at the man before him, Treize dismissed him and turned his back, taking up his glass once more.

“Yes… my lord,” the blond whispered as he left the room. 

Little by little, Treize was being consumed by the dark powers that he consorted with. Yes, Zechs would take his former name and re-enter the world of his youth, but not as a spy. If he did not break away now, the dark power which had taken over Minister Khushrenada would spread, and consume him too, little by little. 

“Goodbye… my friend,” Zechs whispered, slipping outside into the beautiful countryside which surrounded the mansion Treize had designated as Romefeller HQ—seemingly a retreat for the rich and bored elite.

He made for the nearby forest and continued inside until he reached a clearing in the trees. Taking a few deep breaths, Zechs began the transformation into his animagus form. First, his face began to elongate into the features of a horse, two white ears appearing through the hair, which was becoming thicker and tougher, growing into his spine which was now supported by four legs; feet fast becoming hoofs. With a snort and swish of the tail, two magnificent, glowing silver wings sprouted on either side of the horse’s body and he galloped two laps of the small area before taking off from the ground and spiralling upwards out of the treetops. 

To the Muggle world, he would be invisible, but once within the range of wizards, he would have to take the form of a simple white stallion and keep to the edge of forests until he reached Hogwarts.

For so long, Milliardo Peacecraft had been a dream; a half remembered apparition from a time long past, but now, the wizard was back.

*

Voldemort hissed at the blank screen before him. That filthy Muggle made his skin crawl and he longed to simply cast him aside.

“Lord Voldemort,” came a voice from the shadow, “if you ask me to dispatch of him-“

“No, Lucius, until my plan is complete, Khushrenada must remain in the public eye. Once the wizarding world is mine, I must use the Minister to gain control of the Muggles.” The Dark Lord motioned for his servant to come to him. “I know of your doubts, Lucius. You wonder why I care about taking power in their world. You think I have become consumed by revenge.”

“No, my lord-“

“Do not lie to me, Lucius. I know how your pathetic mind works. Know this. You failed me once, and I showed mercy in light of your devotion, but if you do so again, you will not live to see the death of your son by my hand.” Voldemort saw the flicker of horror pass over his servant’s face. The fool would not dare to doubt him again.

“Yes, my lord. Your... mercy will not be forgotten.” As his eyes lifted to glance at his master, the hideous scar across Lucius’ face became visible and Voldemort laughed. The sound grated in the air and caused Lucius to grit his teeth against it.

“Go now, and do not let your faith slip again,” Voldemort cautioned. “Get out of my sight.”


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was working on his Potions homework while Ron versed Hermione in a game of wizard’s chess. The essay he was working on was difficult, and Hermione had resolved not to help him this year. She claimed that as he was studying to become an Auror, he needed to really learn the work. He complained, of course, telling her that was all very well for her to say that now that she’d finished. Now, he was just getting tired and wished his friends would simply help him out.

The last few weeks had really worn him down. At first, he’d had Lupin’s company to stop him pining for Wufei but as the month drew, on the werewolf had grown distant and was obviously suffering deeply himself.

With Lupin sinking into depression and Wufei so far away, Harry had really begun to feel the sting of Sirius’ death once more. Normally, when he was down or confused, he’d used to write his godfather a letter, and that was still his first instinct. Then he would realize that that was no longer an option and suddenly everything would seem so hopeless. Harry once more began to blame himself for Sirius’ death and no matter what Lupin had told him, he hated himself for having found comfort so soon after the man had passed away. Yet, at the same time, he wished with all his heart that Wufei was there to comfort him once more. The pain was just too much without someone to take it away.

Ron and Hermione had noticed him pulling away little by little, and they tried to find out what was wrong, but it just wasn’t the same anymore. Harry had changed after losing Sirius in a way that none of his previous experiences had managed. Now, more than ever, he hated being who he was. Cedric Diggory had been an eye-opener, yes, but Sirius was family. Sirius was one of his own. In losing his godfather, Harry had finally seen that his life was doomed to misery until either he or Voldemort was dead, and what chance did anyone have against the most powerful dark wizard of all time?

Maybe he should just write Wufei a letter and break it off before he got anyone else hurt…

“Harry?”

Harry snapped back to reality to find that the common room had gotten awfully quiet, and he was slumped over his homework scroll with silent tears streaming down his face.

“Harry, are you ok?” Ginny Weasley was kneeling beside him and whispering.

Standing up, he glanced around the room with bleary eyes. Thankfully, there was no one left to see him. “Yeah, Ginny. I’m fine. I just-“

He was cut off when Ginny none-too-delicately told him to shut up, and then drew him into her arms for a quick hug. Then, she dragged him over to the armchairs in front of the fireplace and drew something out from under one of them.

Ginny handed him a butterbeer, and Harry just raised his eyebrows at her. She giggled and told him they were her emergency stash for ‘relationship crisis counselling’. This made him frown and he was about to ask why she thought he needed it when she cut him off.

“Don’t worry, the others didn’t notice anything. They thought you were asleep so I convinced them to leave you and head on up to bed.”

“Uh, thanks, but-“

“Now would probably be a good time to tell you that I know about Wufei,” Ginny cut in once more, biting her lip. “I saw you with him on the train,” she explained. “I just want you to know that I know and that you can talk to me if what’s bothering you has something to do with him, or anything else for that matter.”

Harry stopped gaping and truly smiled for the first time in the last fortnight at anything other than a letter from ‘Fei. “Thanks, Ginny, but I’m ok, really. I’m just tired and also a little worried about Remus. That’s all.”

“No it isn’t,” she said very surely. “You miss him… Sirius… I can tell.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I do-“

“And you blame yourself.”

Looking up in surprise, Harry saw the tears that had begun to form in Ginny’s eyes. “You miss him too,” he said softly. She nodded and it was his turn to pull her into a hug as the tears spilled over. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’ve been so self-absorbed lately that I haven’t taken any notice of anyone else.”

“It’s okay,” she said into his shoulder. “I just wanted you to know that… that I understand what you’re going through.” After a moment of silence, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “I always liked Sirius. He never treated me like the kid that everyone else did, and he told me all sorts of stories about when he was at Hogwarts. I only really got to see him at Grimauld Place, but that was enough to see what a great guy he was. He even taught me some things about becoming an animagus.”

“What?” Harry sat up straight and wondered if she meant that the way it sounded.

Ginny laughed nervously and took a sip of her butterbeer. “Please don’t tell anyone but I’ve been studying ever since the beginning of last year, and, well, with someone to teach me I’ve gotten further than your dad and them did on their own back then.”

“Ginny, are you saying that-“

“I haven’t been able to transform yet, but I’m getting really close. Last time I tried, I felt my nose get all leathery and I think I almost grew fur,” she babbled.

“But, Ginny, that’s dangerous! What if you got hurt?” Harry exclaimed.

“I won’t. Don’t worry. I’ve been very careful, and besides, Sirius taught me everything I know.”

Harry contemplated this for a moment and then nodded. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

“Thanks, Harry.”

They sat quietly for a little while longer until Harry looked up from his thoughts. “So, what animal will you change into, you know, when it works?”

Ginny giggled at that and laughed as she answered, “A fox!”

“I should have known,” Harry replied, joining in the laughter.

They stayed up and talked until both had finished their drinks, and then agreed that it was time to go to bed. “Ginny, before you go, I just wanted to thank you again. I feel much better about everything, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

“Hey, that’s what prefects are for,” she replied with a wink. “Night, Harry. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and don’t tell anyone about my secret stash.”

He laughed. “I won’t. Night, Ginny.”

*

It had been several weeks since Duo’s first blood transfusion. The braided boy’s condition had improved greatly with time and care and he was already up and about. Soon, he would be ready to leave, and he and the others would be out of Wufei’s house and life.

Wufei had been working out the details of his escape. He would first delete all records of himself and of this house, and then he would send a letter to Harry. He knew the boy would help him, and he had plenty of money to support himself. His plan was to join Harry’s secret world, transferring all of his money to sickles, knuts, and galleons. He could live in The Leaky Cauldron that Harry had told him of for as long as he needed to, and since none of his superiors or the other four boys knew anything about the wizarding world, he could hide there forever and just disappear into thin air. At least, so he hoped.

In truth, he was a little nervous about asking Harry for help. He would be intruding on a foreign world, and after Ron’s reaction on the platform, he was a little concerned about what people might say once they knew he was a Muggle. Not to mention the fact that his whole plan relied on his wizard boyfriend, and, although he didn’t want to think about it, there was every possibility that they might break up and then he’d be completely stuck.

He’d gone through this cycle about a million times already, and each time he grew a little more nervous or paranoid about whether things were going to work out or not. All he could do was hope that he hadn’t underestimated Harry’s feelings for him.

*

In the late afternoon of a Saturday, Draco Malfoy sat alone in his dormitory. Crabbe and Goyle had finally figured out that he was in a very foul mood and left him alone in favour of food. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and most of the students were out on the grounds relaxing by the lake or playing wiz frizz by the old oak.

Malfoy didn’t really go in for any of that, especially not when he was doomed to such a miserable life.

Lucius Malfoy had been broken out of Azkaban with the other Death Eaters who were imprisoned and was now on the run from the Ministry. He had come to Draco a short time before term started, battered and broken. An enormous gash had been cut across his face that wouldn’t heal, but that was nothing compared to the damage done to his body. Lucius’ flesh was covered in welts and blisters and thousands of tiny slashes that looked harmless, but were really very deep.

The younger Malfoy had no doubts of who had done this to his father, and he hated him for it. What was worse was that he himself was expected to join the ranks of Death Eaters once his schooling was finished; perhaps earlier, depending on whether Voldemort managed to finally beat Harry Potter. Though no one would dare to speak of such things, at least not to his face, he knew that everyone, even his teachers, were just waiting for the day that he turned around and betrayed them all, side by side with the other Slytherins.

What none of them knew was that Draco despised Voldemort. As a Malfoy, he had been born with a strong sense of pride and self-worth and had been raised to bow to no one. Then, suddenly, that twisted bastard had managed to crawl back out of the pits of hell, and his father dropped to his knees on cue, snivelling and scurrying about like a mere servant. It was embarrassing to see the strong, powerful man he’d idolized drop to such a pathetic level. Draco wanted to scream when he thought about what had happened to Lucius because of it.

Usually the boy would take his frustrations out on Potter but lately that got him nowhere. The stupid git had been moping about for a month now, and nothing he tried could get a rise out of his rival. Draco had even insulted that fool of a mutt Sirius Black, and received nothing for his trouble but a black eye from Ron Weasley before Granger had stepped in and dragged the little prick off of him.

“What the hell is happening to this damn school?!” he yelled to the walls. 

*

Up in his office, Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily. This year would be a tough one. He had three students on the verge of breakdown, a teacher who was fast becoming manic depressive, one who was constantly endangering his life for the greater good, and—at least—one Gryffindor prefect running amok. 

“That is a good question indeed,” he whispered.

All at once, he walked to the window overlooking the Forbidden Forest and smiled at a magnificent white horse that was visible for a moment between the trees. Perhaps Hagrid would like to share a cup of tea…


	8. Chapter 8

Zechs continued to travel just inside the border of what was known as the Forbidden Forest. He was tired from journeying so far and all he’d eaten for days was grass, grass, a meal at a third rate inn, and more grass. Now, he had finally reached Hogwarts but had no idea what to do with himself. Maybe this would be a good time to rest.

Settling down onto his hind legs and then front, Zechs rested his head just to the side of his knees and snorted. Just a little rest, and then he’d work out how to approach Hogwarts…

*

“Is that a unicorn?”

“No, I don’t think so; it looks more like a horse.”

“Don’t be a git, Hermione. What would a horse be doing in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Well, I don’t know, but it IS a horse. Look, no horn.”

Zechs awoke to the conversation, and once it sunk in that they were talking about him, he was jolted back to reality and stood abruptly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the most graceful of horses on a good day, having spent most of his life as a human, and having just been woken, he only vaguely remembered that he was currently in his animagus form. Somewhere in the process of standing, he landed back on the ground with a thud and what felt very much like a broken limb. Automatically, the shock triggered his transformation and he lay on the forest floor clutching his right ankle in agony.

“You’re… you’re an animagus!” one of the students crowed.

“Well, that’s fairly obvious, Ron,” the only girl spoke. ”The question is, what is he doing here?”

“Maybe he’s a spy for You-Know-Who,” the boy, Ron, answered ominously. “Oi, Harry, whatcha’ doing? He might be a spy.”

The brunet, Harry, was leaning over Zechs’ foot and gingerly reached out to touch it. At the instant cry of pain, he winced and jerked back. “I think it’s broken,” he told the others. “Ron, go and fetch Hagrid.”

After lingering a moment, Ron finally ran off in search of the man they’d called Hagrid and Harry knelt down beside Zechs. “Sorry about that. My name’s Harry. That was Ron. He’s gone to get the grounds keeper, and we’ll have you up to Madame Pomfrey in no time. I’m sure she’ll be able to heal your leg in a second. What’s your name?”

“…Milliardo,” Zechs replied after a moment, his more familiar name on the tip of his tongue. “Milliardo Peacecraft.” Gritting his teeth, Zechs pulled himself together and briefly thought over his current predicament when it hit him. ”Harry? Harry Potter?” He looked up to the boy’s forehead where a lightning shaped scar greeted him as confirmation.

“Harry,” the girl whispered, and grabbed his arm. She dragged him away, but Zechs had good hearing, and managed to catch the dramatically whispered conversation. “What if Ron’s right? It took him a while to remember his name, and remember when I looked up Rita Skeeter? I don’t remember any pure white horses on the Animagus list, and I checked the whole list just to make sure. Not to mention he seemed awfully interested in your name.”

“Hermione, everyone is interested in my name. That doesn’t make him a spy for Voldemort, and besides, Sirius was an unregistered animagus, wasn’t he? That doesn’t mean anything either,” the boy replied rather heatedly. 

He was about to walk away when she grabbed his arm again and whispered frantically, “I really think you ought to think about this for a moment, Harry. Don’t let your feelings over Sirius blind your judgment. This could be-“

“I’m not letting anything ‘blind my judgment’, Hermione. There is nothing solid to suggest that he is anyone other than who he claims to be. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go help the man with a broken ankle.” Harry tugged his arm out of her grasp and glared angrily. 

The poor girl looked so taken aback by his aggression that she seemed close to tears. 

“A broken ankle, you say? I’m quite sure that Madame Pomfrey can take care of that,” called a distinguished voice from just beyond the tree line.

*

“It’s good to see you again, my dear Milliardo. It has been quite a while since you graced us with your presence.” The headmaster chuckled lightly. “Although, I do wish the circumstances had been a little better.” The group of five were still in the hospital wing, although Madame Pomfrey had already healed Milliardo’s leg. Hagrid had returned to his duties but the curious trio had insisted on staying with the man who had arrived so mysteriously. “Harry, Ron, and Hermione, meet Milliardo Peacecraft; Former Ravenclaw and Head Boy of Hogwarts.”

More than anything else, the words ‘Head Boy’ made Hermione relax, and Ron and Harry rolled their eyes. “Well, that settles it, then,” she whispered. “I trust him.”

“You know, Tom Riddle was Head Boy, too,” Ron muttered. “That’s beside the point, though. If Dumbledore trusts him, then so do I.”

“You’ve never said that about Snape,” Hermione grumbled.

Ignoring her, Harry smirked and said, “I told you so,” to both of them before speaking in a louder voice to Milliardo. “So, now that we know who you are, what are you doing here?”

“Now, now, Harry. It isn’t polite to ask too many questions upon one’s first meeting. You of all people should know that,” Dumbledore chided merrily.

“It’s okay,” Milliardo said to them both. “Actually, I’m here to speak to you about something rather important, Headmaster.”

“Very well, follow me, and we’ll have a little chat in my office,” Dumbledore answered, clasping his hands together and smiling. “As for you three, it’s a wonderful day, so run along and play outside.” He shooed them towards the door, with Milliardo following behind on his newly mended ankle. As an afterthought, Dumbledore added, “And do try to remember that the ‘Forbidden Forest’ is named that way for a reason. Next time you see a horse, tell Hagrid.”

“Yes, sir,” the three answered in unison and then headed off down the opposite direction of the corridor.

*

“Good kids, those three. A slight penchant for rule-breaking but they mean well,” Albus told Zechs once they’d gone.

“You said that about me once, if I remember correctly,” the animagus answered.

“So I did. So I did,” muttered the older wizard, an indulgent smile on his features.

They reached the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s Office, and it sprang aside at the words, “Willy Wonka!” They continued up the spiral staircase and into the office, where both men took a seat.

“Now, what is this rather important matter you wish to speak of, Milliardo?” Albus asked, most of the mirth now gone from his voice.

“Sir, I’m afraid I have a confession to make, and a story to tell before the matter can be addressed,” he answered, eyes lowered to the desk.

“Then, by all means, go ahead. I do so love a good story,” Dumbledore told him. “The necessary preparations have been made for you to stay at least for tonight. We have plenty of time.”

“Very well, sir.” taking a deep breath, Zechs began to relate his story. “You may recall my disappearance from the wizarding community several years back…”

…Milliardo Peacecraft had been a very gifted and fortunate child. A pureblood wizard and heir to a fortune, he had often been remarked of as being ‘blessed’. This assumption was quickly turned around, however, when his family was the first to be struck by Voldemort’s power-hungry hand. He and his sister Relena had been the sole survivors of their large family. With everything they’d ever known taken from them in one horrific night, both brother and sister were taken in by the Ministry of Magic and given special permission to live at Hogwarts until their tuition ended. However, Zechs had just graduated from Hogwarts when Voldemort struck once more and Relena was stolen from Hogsmeade, raped, and then murdered by a gang of Death Eaters. Unable to bear the loss of the last thing he had to hold onto in this world, he disappeared from the wizarding community and assumed the alias of Zechs Merquise. Under this new name, he became close friends with an ambitious Muggle general named Treize Khushrenada, who grew to become a well-known militant and political figure across many continents. This, of course, was of no interest to wizards, except a handful of ministry workers who dealt with keeping tabs on developments in the Muggle world. No one ever guessed that Khushrenada’s right hand man was the very same boy who had gone missing after the death of his sister and been presumed dead. This, of course, worked in the minister’s favour, and, having learned of the hidden world of magic from his trusted confidant, he resolved to observe the continuing struggle with the returning dark wizard who was asserting his claim to power, one family at a time. Having cast aside his old life, Zechs stood aside and watched as the minister put his plans into action, but before his ambitions could be reached, Voldemort disappeared entirely and everything screeched to a halt. In light of this new development, Treize kept one eye on the wizarding world whilst he continued to gather power in his own. He had watched with interest as Harry Potter grew older each year and eventually attended Hogwarts, while, at the same time, Voldemort’s vestiges began to gather and strengthen. Finally, the Dark Lord had been resurrected and had begun to move once more. Zechs watched again, this time noticing the change in his friend. Treize seemed almost as though he was drawn to that gathering darkness. Little by little, it began to control him and settle into his mind until he could no longer see that he had become the proverbial puppet…

“…and now here I am. I can no longer sit back and watch as a world I once loved is destroyed by that vile creature who calls himself a wizard.”

“That is quite a tale, Milliardo. It seems that you have not been completely idle in your absence.” Dumbledore was staring off into the distance; his fingers laced together, indexes resting on his lips. After a short while, he stirred and looked once more at the man before him. “Now, for the matter of which you spoke…”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Zechs felt as though time had disintegrated, and he was a student once more. As Head Boy he had had many conversations with Dumbledore and they always made him feel so small and insignificant compared to the wizened old wizard. “Having spent so much time with the enemy, I have been privilege to Treize’s plans and have at least an inkling of Voldemort’s true intentions.”

“Of course… Of course.” Dumbledore held up a hand. ”Forgive me for interrupting, but I am curious as to Minister Khushrenada’s knowledge of your whereabouts.”

“He knows that I am here at Hogwarts, and also, I believe, that I have betrayed him. I understand your concerns in this, but his plans will not change. In fact, I suspect that he knew all along what would happen. My interference on your side will make no difference concerning his personal ambitions, only those of Voldemort. You see, there is still enough of Treize left to put his own plans above those of the man he considers his inferior. My presence here is to ensure the safety of Harry Potter, alongside those who will come from the Muggle world. They are his ultimate targets, as, in his eyes, their existence poses the only true threat to his struggle for power,” Zechs explained.

“This is interesting news, Milliardo,” Albus replied after a brief pause. “Thank you for confiding in me. You are welcome to stay as long as need be. I’m sure something can be arranged to explain your presence here.”

Just then, the door flew open and Ginny Weasley tore inside, desperately trying to speak through her panting breaths. “Headmaster… Remus...Professor Lupin, he’s-he’s tried to…to-“ The girl broke down in tears, still trying to convey her message through wracking sobs.

Dumbledore so comfortably assumed the role of comforting matron that it wasn’t even strange to see the headmaster draw her into his arms and stroke her hair lightly. “Take your time, Miss Weasley.”

Once the sobs had calmed a little, she stepped back and looked up into the headmaster’s face. 

“Professor Lupin… he tried to commit suicide, sir.” Once she finally got the statement out, fresh tears began to flow. 

“Milliardo, please take Ms Weasley to the Hospital Ward, and send Madame Pomfrey to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office at once.”


	9. Chapter 9

Wufei went over everything Harry had told him of the Leaky Cauldron in his mind. Thankfully, he had a good memory, and was soon able to find the street it was in. He remembered that he had to be looking for it to find it, and so he concentrated on the name, not knowing what it looked like. He wasn’t sure if it would work for a non-magical person, but he had to try.

He was just beginning to worry when a sign swinging in the wind caught his eye. It sported a picture of a bubbling Cauldron and read: The Leaky Cauldron. Sighing in relief, he made his way across the street and pushed open the door.

Walking inside, Wufei was a little overwhelmed by the place. Most of the patrons were wearing strange robes and hats, and although Harry had told him that this was what the wizarding community normally wore, he had expected that being located in London, the attire would be more, well, normal.

As he walked towards the bar, many people were already giving him funny looks, and a lot of the friendly conversation had softened to whispers and pointing. Growing more and more self-conscious, Wufei once more doubted his decision, thinking that perhaps this was a bad idea after all. He sat down on a stool in front of the bar and immediately the barman approached him. 

“Anything I can get ya, lad?” The man obviously didn’t like the look of him and watched him warily through narrowed eyes.

He was saved from replying by a tall red-headed man who sat beside him. “He’ll have a butterbeer, Tom, on me.”

The bartender, Tom, didn’t seem to think this was wise, but when in doubt, the customer is always right. “If you say so, Arthur.”

“I do, Tom,” the man answered and once the barman gave up his attempt at subtle staring, he turned his attention to Wufei. “I think it’s obvious to say that you aren’t from around here, but there’s no way you would have found your way to this place if you hadn’t known what you were looking for. Correct me if I’m wrong but might your name be Wufei Chang?”

Thanks to the instincts honed by being an underground operative, the only outward sign of Wufei’s surprise was the slight widening of his eyes.

“You are?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Arthur Weasley. Ministry of Magic, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office,” the man replied.

Wufei let down his guard a little and sighed in relief. “You’re…uh, Molly’s husband?”

“That’s right. She told me she met you on the platform.”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re a lucky lad; I just stopped in to pay a visit to old Tom about an offender who may have stayed here last night.” Mr. Weasley smiled and nodded politely at Tom, who was watching suspiciously as he arrived with Wufei’s butterbeer. “It’s okay, Tom. You can relax; he’s a friend of Harry’s.” 

Wufei was surprised when that seemed to alter the man’s attitude completely. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Muggle or no, if you’re friends with Harry Potter, then you’re alright by me,” he proclaimed loudly, which gained the attention of several patrons who had been watching closely.

Wincing, Wufei accepted the drink. Harry had mentioned butterbeer before and apparently it was very nice. “Thank you.”

“No problem and you can keep your money, Arthur. This one’s on the house.” Tom smiled and excused himself as a man entered with a trolley-full of luggage.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere else,” Arthur suggested. “I think Tom’s declaration may have done more damage than good. Come on, I’ll take you into Diagon Alley where it’s more crowded and less nosey.”

Wufei nodded and followed the man through the tavern and into an alley behind. He watched in awe as the brick wall literally unfolded to reveal a bustling street filled with wizards and witches.

Once they had immersed themselves amongst the crowd and chatter, Arthur spoke once more. “So, what brings you to our world, Wufei?”

The boy considered his answer for a moment and decided that this was a lucky break. “I… had nowhere else to go. I’ve heard so much from Harry that I hoped I could stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a while.”

Arthur watched the boy’s face as he spoke. He knew there was more to Wufei’s story, but he was sure that it was nothing threatening to Harry, at least. “Well, come with me to Gringotts. The first thing we’ll do is exchange your money, and then I’ll take you back to the Burrow by floo. There’s no need for you to stay in an inn. We have plenty of room in our house since all of the kids, except Bill, are living away from home at school or work.”

This time the surprise did show. “Are you sure? I have plenty of money. Enough to stay at the inn for quite a while.”

“Not only am I sure, but I insist,” the wizard replied. “For starters, it isn’t safe for a lone Muggle in our world now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.”

“Then, I’ll pay rent for as long as I am under your roof.” Wufei bowed to show respect and gratitude. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Mr. Weasley laughed. “There’s no need to be so formal. As long as you’re going to be staying with us, you’re nothing short of family.”

*

Harry and Ginny had arranged a surprise for Remus. They had collected some food from the all-too-willing house elves in the kitchens and the remaining butterbeers hidden in various places around Gryffindor Tower. Hiding under the invisibility cloak, they were on their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office with armfuls of party gear. 

Harry had managed to shake off Ron and Hermione. He knew that they would have wanted to be there for Lupin as well, but he and Ginny thought it was important to do this themselves. So here they were at 9:00 at night, sneaking around Hogwarts, unseen and giggling surreptitiously as a packet of chips threatened to fall but was caught in Ginny’s mouth.

They finally reached their destination and Harry took most of the load, apart from a couple of bottles of butterbeer, out of Ginny’s arms and set it down on the floor. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Hoping Lupin wasn’t asleep, he knocked again. “Remus? Are you there?”

“Go away,” came the muffled reply.

“Remus?” he asked again, swinging the door open. “Oh my god.”

Behind him, Ginny gasped, and there was a loud crash as the bottles she was holding slipped to the floor.

“Ginny, go to Dumbledore, now! He’ll know what to do!” Harry cried and rushed forward, taking the blood-coated letter opener from Lupin’s limp hand. 

The professor looked up at him groggily. “Don’t do this to me, Harry. I don’t want to be the only one left.” He cradled his dripping wrist in the untouched hand. “I don’t want to be alone.”

*

Ginny sprinted as hard as she could towards Dumbledore’s office, frantically trying to remember the password given the prefects and screaming it out once she did. She raced up the staircase and flung open the door. Doubling over from the effort, she tried to get the words out through heavy panting, but there just wasn’t enough air left in her lungs. It felt as though they would explode. “Headmaster… Remus...Professor Lupin, he’s-he’s tried to…to-“ When she could finally talk, it was so hard to bring herself to say the words. Trying to speak it out loud made everything so much more real, and the tears began to flow freely, choking her as she still tried to communicate the horrible sight she and Harry had walked in on. 

Dumbledore drew her into his arms and stroked her hair lightly. “Take your time Miss Weasley.”

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she was able to stop crying long enough to tell Dumbledore what had happened. “Professor Lupin… he tried to commit suicide, sir.” This brought fresh tears, and soon, she found herself being escorted to the hospital wing by the stranger.

*

“Please, Remus, tell me what to do… How do I stop the blood?” Harry asked desperately, tears stinging in his eyes. Furiously, he wiped them away. Remus was NOT going to die. But the werewolf just sat there and shook his head, his lips sealed tightly. “Please…” He sank to the floor in front of the only living father figure he had left. “I need you… You can’t die… Please.” Harry looked around for something, anything, that might ebb the flow; keep Remus alive long enough for Madame Pomfrey to heal him. 

On the professor’s desk he saw a roll of Molly Moppet’s Magical Mess Removal Handy Towels. “A-Accio handy towels,” he cried feebly, holding out his wand. The towels wobbled a little but didn’t come as he commanded. “Accio Handy Towels!” he screamed. This time, they came flying straight at him, and only his seeker’s reflexes saved him from being knocked over. 

Harry tore several pieces from the roll and wrapped them around Lupin’s arm. The professor protested weakly but he didn’t have the energy to do more.

“Good thinking, Harry,” Dumbledore said as he entered the room.

“Is he going to be okay?” the boy asked, not taking his eyes off of Remus.

“I am afraid that I do not know. We will do all we can,” the headmaster said quietly, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He pulled out his wand, aimed it at Remus, and muttered a spell which caused him to slump to the floor. “He is sleeping, it will be easier to deal with him this way.”

Harry rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around himself, backing away a little.

“Oh, Albus! Ginny Weasley was in a right state, and- Oh dear. Oh my dear…” Madame Pomfrey rushed forward and conjured a stretcher in mid-air.

Dumbledore turned around and stood in front of Harry, blocking his view. “Harry, I know this is hard for you, but I want you to go to the hospital wing and stay with Ginny Weasley. Try and get some sleep, but if you find no sanctuary there, then comfort each other as best as you can.”

“But, sir-“

The old wizard shook his head. “No. No matter the outcome, this is not something I wish for you to see.”

“Yes sir,” Harry answered dejectedly, unwilling to argue. “Please don’t let him die,” he whispered as he back out of the door and ran through the corridors as fast as he could, breaking down halfway and falling upon his knees, sobbing.

That was when he heard the most unexpected voice behind him. “Do get up off the floor, Mr. Potter. It really is most unbecoming.” 

Harry ignored the Potions master, and stayed exactly where he was, biting his lip in an effort to stop the tears. “I said-“

Snape grabbed Harry’s arm, and then stopped in mid-sentence, first surprised at the lack of resistance and then shocked by the tears flowing freely over the boy’s cheeks.

“Let me be,” Harry croaked. “If you want to gloat, Remus is in his office. Careful, though. You might not want to get blood on your robes.”

Snape froze, then as realization set in, he let Harry’s arm drop, running towards the DADA office and growling, “Damn fool of a half-breed!” 

Leaning against the wall, Harry’s eyes drifted closed, and he stood there shaking for a while before continuing to the Hospital Wing and banishing Snape from his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry and Ginny had gotten very little sleep the previous night. They had sat together in silence for a very long time, both expecting Remus to be brought to the hospital wing, but no one came. Milliardo Peacecraft had sat in the shadows all night and kept an eye on them. When Harry finally drifted off to sleep with Ginny cradled in his arms, he could still see the stranger watching them and looking grim.

“Harry. Harry, wake up.” Ginny was shaking him lightly. He came around slowly and then realized that Madame Pomfrey was sitting beside their bed.

“Good morning,” the woman said to them. She looked very worn and more than a little drained but there was a sad sort of smile on her face. 

“How is Remus? Is he okay? Oh, please say he’s okay,” Harry begged of her.

“I’m not sure about okay, but he is alive and his body is functioning stably. You found him just in time,” she assured them. “Not even magic can heal those on the very brink of death… As for his mental condition, I can only guess that it will be a long haul. He will need you as friends to help him through.”

Harry nodded. “At least he isn’t… dead.” This last was a whisper and almost brought more tears to his eyes.

“Can we see him?” Ginny asked.

“He is asleep for the moment. Professor Snape has given him a powerful sleeping potion, but if you wish to sit beside him, I see no harm. He is over by the window. We came in during the very early hours of the morning.”

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said to her, immediately getting up off the bed and making his way towards the corner bed which had curtains drawn around it. He pushed them aside and took a good look at the figure on the bed.

Lupin’s skin was paler than usual and very blotchy. There were gaunt circles under his eyes that had been growing as the weeks progressed, but, somehow, they now seemed to stand out more heavily. He was lying flat on his back, arms on either side of him, and his left wrist seemed to be glowing with a faint pink aura. That was probably due to a spell to seal the wound, or, more likely, to renew the lost blood.

The boy sighed and took the seat by the head of the bed. After a moment, Ginny sat beside him and curled her knees up to her chest. Neither of them spoke; both were caught up in their own thoughts. Eventually, Ginny dropped off to sleep, and Harry got up and placed a blanket over her from one of the beds. At least another hour went by before Harry was startled by a *pop*. He stood and whirled around, coming face to face with Dobby.

Before the house elf could make a sound, Harry whipped out his wand and placed a silencing charm on him. “I really hate it when you do that, Dobby.” The elf just stared at him in shock, eyes wide. “Sorry, I couldn’t risk you waking Ginny or Remus. I’m going to take the charm off, but you have to whisper.” Dobby nodded to show that he understood, and Harry muttered the countercharm.

“Dobby is sorry, sir. When he found out about professor Lupin, he asked Mr. Dumbledore if he could help. Dobby was told that you would be needing food and drink, Harry Potter, sir.” With a click of the fingers, a massive platter of fruit and meat appeared, floating in mid-air in front of Harry.

He sighed. “Thank you, Dobby. I appreciate it.”

“Dobby is glad to be of service, sir,” the house elf intoned, and then, with a bow, he disappeared once more.

“Harry? What’s going on? Is he awake?” Ginny stirred and rubbed her eyes. “Oh,” she said, noticing the platter. “Is that for us?” Harry nodded and smiled when the girl cheered up a little. “I’m starving,” she told him, eagerly taking a cracker and piling it with cheese and ham.

“Aren’t you going to have something?” she finally asked once she’d eaten all that she could.

“I’m not very hungry,” he answered.

“Did someone mention food?” asked a weak voice, and both Harry and Ginny jumped.

“You’re awake!” they cried in unison.

Lupin cringed. “No need to shout. I’ve got a terrible headache.”

“And I’ll bet you’re feeling woozy, too,” Madame Pomfrey diagnosed, opening the curtain. “Ah, good. Albus arranged some food for you. Oh, and pumpkin juice. Wonderful!” She grabbed a large silver pitcher from the middle of the platter and filled one of the three glasses. “Here you are,” she said, handing it to Lupin. “This will do you good.” Once he’d drunk down the pumpkin juice, she took a block of chocolate from a pocket in her uniform. Unwrapping it, she broke off several pieces and handed them to the professor. “Now eat those right away, and I want to see the whole block finished within the hour.”

“Poppy, stop fussing. I’m not a student. I’m a fully grown adult, and I can take care of myself.” He looked her in the eye, trying to assert his authority and failing miserably. “Fine. I’ll eat the damn chocolate,” he grumbled.

“Of course you will. I know what’s best, and if this is your idea of taking care of yourself, then I do not intend to let you out of my ward for a very long time,” the elderly matron scolded, although there was a glimmer in her eyes that bellied the harsh words. “Now, eat up. I expect you’ll have some more visitors soon.”

Remus sighed and did as he was told. Madame Pomfrey did not leave until he had eaten all of the pieces she’d broken off and taken some more from the block himself. “Oh, and as for you boy,” she added upon drawing the curtains closed again. “I don’t want to hear any more of this ‘I’m not hungry’ nonsense. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, feeling like a small child. He took a fresh green apple from the tray.

“Very good,” she said, and left them to their own devices.

Harry ate his apple and Lupin his chocolate. Ginny poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and stared at the surface sullenly. There was a long, uncomfortable silence until Lupin finally spoke up. “How long have you two been sitting there?”

“We slept in here last night and then came to sit by the bedside late in the morning,” Harry answered, eyes downcast.

Another silence stretched between them, and all three wished that they were anywhere else but in that room. Then, all of a sudden, the tension was broken as somebody entered the ward and Madame Pomfrey directed them towards the partitioned bed.

The curtains parted once more and Ron and Hermione appeared, looking distraught. “We were so worried about you three all day! All of you just disappeared in the night and nobody knew where you were! We were only just told by Dumbledore! What on Earth happened?” Hermione ranted.

A look of guilt passed over the professor’s face and he looked up at her sheepishly. “I’m afraid that this is my fault,” he said quietly. “Please don’t be angry at Harry or Ginny. They’ve been through enough already because of me.”

It really hurt Harry to hear the deep remorse in Lupin’s voice and he felt tears spring to his eyes for the umpteenth time since the previous night. “Don’t say that, Remus. This isn’t your fault.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course it is. Who’s fault could it possibly be, if not mine?” He sighed heavily and sank back down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, eyes closing tightly.

Rom and Hermione hadn’t moved from where they’d been standing, and both were shocked to see their friends so broken. “Oh, god. What’s happened?” The witch asked once more, looking almost horrified to hear the answer.

“I… I tried to kill myself,” the man answered, eyes still closed, dreading their reactions. “I sharpened a letter opener and... tried to slit my wrists.”

There was a long pause until Lupin finally opened his eyes. Ron looked dumbstruck, but Hermione… Hermione looked livid. “You stupid fool! What were you thinking!? How could you possibly be so selfish!? Especially after what happened to Sirius! We need you, you idiot… How…how could you… I don’t understand…” The outraged cry faded gradually into whispers. Everyone was staring at Hermione except for Lupin and there was a dead silence that seemed to swallow them all whole. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered at last and ran from the room.

“Hermione?” Ron called weakly after her. After a moment of indecision, he started to follow her but Ginny stopped him. 

“No, let me go.” He nodded and watched as his little sister left the Hospital Wing. Then, he turned back to the bed where Harry was sitting and biting his lip and Lupin had turned his face into the pillow, his eyes staring blankly out into the grounds.

“She had a point,” Harry whispered.

Lupin didn’t respond.

“I don’t understand what you were thinking,” the boy continued, a note of pleading in his voice. “Will you at least tell me why?”

Remus seemed to realize that he was going to have to say something sooner or later. Sighing heavily, he pushed himself to a sitting position and cast a nervous glance at Ron, who seemed to get the hint.

“I’m going to go see if the girls are okay…” he said to them and left, not waiting for a reply.

“Harry,” the werewolf began, “This is going to be hard for you to understand.”

“Try me.”

“I… this is so hard to say. I’ve never… never felt so alone. Everyone I used to care about is gone. For good, this time. I’m the only one left. I don’t have anything to live for anymore. At first, I wanted to see you grow up. James’ boy here at Hogwarts, and I got to see that. And then, suddenly there was nothing again… but Sirius came back. He came back to me and gave me a reason to be alive, and now that he’s gone, I-“

“What about me, Remus? Aren’t I a good enough reason? No, of course not. I’m Harry, not James… Not Sirius.” Harry knew even as he said it that he didn’t mean to be so spiteful, but Hermione had woken in him the anger that Lupin would do this to him. Anger and hurt.

“You know that’s not- I didn’t mean-“

“It’s not true? You didn’t mean it? Well, you’re wrong. It is true, whether you meant it or not. I’ll never be my like my father or his friends, and I’ll never be anything but his shadow. My whole life I’ve either been the famous Harry Potter, or good ol’ James’ son. There have only ever been a handful of people who cared about plain old Harry, and I thought you were one of them, but obviously I was mistaken. When I first met you in third year, you became like a father figure to me, and then Sirius came along, and it was like I almost had a real family. For once I had people to look up to like every other kid. When I lost Sirius, I lost a father for the second time in my life, and now here you go, pulling something like this. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you! I don’t care what you think. You’re not doing this again. I won’t let you. I won’t let you leave me.”

*

Madame Pomfrey listened to Harry and Lupin as they tried to sort through both their own emotions and each other’s. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but hidden away in her office, she was completely forgotten, and Harry was making no effort to keep his voice down. She could have interrupted, but she believed that this was for the good of both of them. They needed to get this out into the open, and the sooner they understood each other, the sooner each could recover from their ordeal.

*

Hermione was already out of sight by the time Ginny followed after her, but the prefect suspected that Moaning Myrtles bathroom would seem like the ideal location to hide out. “Hermione?” she called, peeking around the door.

“In there…” Myrtle supplied, pointing to a closed cubicle, and looking far too happy at the girl’s misery. Then the ghost cackled loudly and dived into the plumbing of her toilet with a sick popping sound.

Ginny pushed the door in to find Hermione bawling into her hands, bushy hair falling around her. “Oh, Ginny, what have I done?” She pushed her hair back and looked up. “I said some awful things… What if I just made everything worse?” The sixth year threw herself into Ginny’s arms, burying her face in the redhead’s shoulder. “It’s just that everything is all so wrong! Sirius is gone, and Harry never came to stay over the summer, and now he won’t tell anything to me or Ron! It’s almost as though he doesn’t like us anymore… And now, Lupin… everything is just going so wrong! What if he’d succeeded and… and… oh, Ginny! I can’t take much more of this!”

Not saying anything, Ginny just held the girl until her sobs died down and faded away. Once Hermione pulled herself together, the red head gestured towards the sink bench and they sat down on it. “I understand how you’re feeling. With Voldemort’s return, life is just going to get harder, and we’re going to lose more and more of the people we love. The only thing we can do is to cherish the time we have together and keep the dark outside. You’re a strong girl, Hermione, and I’ve always looked up to you, so I’m going to fill you in on a little secret as long as you promise not to tell Harry you know.” Hermione nodded, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Ginny took a deep breath and began to speak as though she’d rehearsed this over and over in her mind. “Harry still cares about you and Ron very much, and that is part of the problem. He blames himself for Sirius’ death, and also for putting you two in danger. Suddenly, the adventures into the forest or the shrieking shack have become much more serious to him. Even more serious than they were when they happened. Sirius’ death has changed him, and he’s beginning to see the darkness around and inside of himself.”

Hermione frowned. This didn’t sound like the Ginny she knew. The girl before her seemed to have aged a million years in a matter of minutes. “Ginny, what’s happened to you? Where has all of this come from?”

“I… I’ve been studying since second year… I found some books on dark magic and, and how it affects people. I’m sure that Dumbledore knows all about it, too,” she answered a little hesitantly. “You see, when Voldemort gave that scar to Harry, some of the wizard himself was infused into it. There’s a darkness inside of Harry that’s growing stronger and dragging him down, but he finally found-“

“Ginny… you can’t even get books like that in the restricted section! Where did you find such information?”

“That’s not the point,” the prefect snapped. “What I’m trying to say is that Harry finally found something, someone, who helped him suppress it. I don’t think even Harry knows about the struggle inside of him, but he was able to send it all away for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, letting it go for now in favour of curiosity.

“Do you remember that boy that we met on the platform? He’s Harry’s boyfriend,” Ginny answered, blushing a little.

“I’m sorry? Did you say-“

“Boyfriend.”

“I… see…” Hermione replied slowly, the wheels in her head obviously turning at a million miles an hour. Once she finally seemed satisfied with her thoughts, she looked back up at Ginny. “But… what has all this got to do with me and Ron? That is what we were talking about…”

“Isn’t it obvious? Harry spent the whole summer with Wufei, and even so close to Sirius’ death he felt happier than he has done in a very long time. Now, he hasn’t seen the guy for over a month, and the depression and darkness is returning harder than ever before. Harry’s pushing himself away from you and Ron because you haven’t been tainted by the dark.” That statement hung in the air, and Ginny simply waited for Hermione to pick up on what she was implying.

“But you have… You and Professor Lupin…” Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she mulled over this new piece of information. “He’s a werewolf, and you… it’s something to do with Tom Riddle’s Diary; what happened to you in the Chamber of Secrets.” Ginny nodded. “I think I understand now, Ginny.” Hermione smiled at her and drew her into a hug. “You’re so precious, do you know that? No amount of darkness could ever change that. Thank you, Ginny.” With that, the brunette hopped off of her perch and made her way towards the door, smiling brightly.

“Uh… Hermione?” The older girl stopped and turned back around, waiting. “You seem to be taking this ... everything… rather well… Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Ginny. In fact, I’m feeling much better. I think I can understand Harry’s actions a lot better now.” Then, she turned and walked out the door, leaving behind a slightly confused Ginny who couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the girl had meant.

*

“Milliardo,” the headmaster called, signalling for the man to follow him. “I know that you must be feeling very out of place at the moment, but am I correct in assuming that you wish to help?”

“Of course. Headmaster, If there is anything I can do…” Zechs trailed off. 

“I believe there is something you can do, my boy,” Dumbledore answered, placing a hand on Zechs’ shoulder. “Professor Snape already takes on more duties than his Potions Classes for this school. Although he is able to substitute as a Defense against the Dark Arts professor, it would not be wise for him to accept the role permanently, and I fear that Remus will not be fit to teach again after this ordeal. This, of course, leaves me with a dilemma and extremely short notice to find a suitable replacement…”

“I’ll do it.” Zechs knew what he was being asked, and he accepted the position immediately. If he could play a part in the coming events by training the students to defend themselves, then perhaps he could redeem himself for running away all those years ago. It was the least he could do. “I understand how important the subject is, especially in these times, and I will do what I can.”

Dumbledore smiled, “I had hoped you would say that. Welcome to the staff body of Hogwarts. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have many urgent matters to attend to.”

“Of course, sir.” Zechs replied politely, but before the old man could get away… “Headmaster? Thank you.” He received a nod in reply, and then, the distinguished wizard retreated down the corridor.

*

Harry and Remus had talked for hours. Both of them had so many doubts that needed to be voiced, and as they listened to each other, sometimes reprimanding, sometimes agreeing, they felt a stronger bond grow between them than ever before.

Remus no longer talked to Harry as his ‘young friend’ or ‘best friend’s son’, but as man to man. They talked about everything, from Harry’s father, to Remus’ relationship with Sirius, to Harry’s sexual desire for Wufei, and once they could talk no more, Harry curled up on the bed beside Remus like he had always wished he could do with his father. 

As Harry fell asleep in his arms, Remus finally understood his place in this world. He knew it wouldn’t be so simple, and that it would be a long time before he was truly himself again, but he had Harry to help him through, and that was what really mattered.


	11. Chapter 11

About a week after Remus had recovered, the Gryffindors were all chattering loudly at breakfast when the mail arrived. There was a rather amusing spectacle as a Hufflepuff third year received a howler about a family heirloom her mother had found behind the couch. The poor kid turned beat red and left the Great Hall in tears, which provided no end of entertainment for the Slytherins.

Once the commotion had died down, Harry returned his attention to his cereal and almost jumped out of his skin to see a large feathery lump face down in the milk.

“Errol!” Ron grabbed the old owl from the bowl, and sighed in relief when two golden eyes blinked open and the letter he’d been carrying in his beak fell onto the table, soaked. He picked it up from the table and cast a quick drying spell on it. “Ouch!” The edges of the envelope grew hot in his hand and began to burn although there was no visible flame.

“Dispeliose’!” Hermione spoke, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Ron, sometimes you can confuse the simplest spells.”

The redhead glared at her and went to open the letter when he realized who it was addressed to. “Oi, Harry, this is for you.”

Harry took the letter and read the name on the front. “Oh… I wonder why.” He opened the parchment envelope and began to read the letter. At first, he seemed a little confused, then surprised, and by the end of the letter he was beaming.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s from Wufei. You’ll never believe it… He’s staying at your house, Ron,” Harry exclaimed, passing his friend the letter.

“He’s not just staying there. He’s living there!” Ron cried.

“Let me see.” Ginny snatched the letter out of her brother’s hands and read it herself. “Oh, Harry. That’s wonderful!”

When Hermione read the letter, she kept up with the good cheer, but inwardly frowned. What was the boy running away from so desperately that he needed to hide out in the wizarding world? Of course, the letter didn’t say so in those exact words, but she was good at reading between the lines and figured that whatever had happened to Harry’s boyfriend, there would be consequences if he was found and who knew how many people it might affect. Still, remembering what Ginny told her, Hermione kept her doubts to herself. Harry seemed a lot happier since the events of the previous week, and if this would help him stay that way, then they would deal with any repercussions when and if they came along. She also tucked away that little voice in her mind that was always on the lookout for minions of Voldemort. Harry knew better than any of them that he had to be careful, and if what Ginny had said was true, then the odds of Wufei being a traitor were really very slim.

*

Milliardo was busy searching in the desk of his new office and didn’t hear the door open behind him. When Remus cleared his throat in hopes of getting his attention, the new professor whirled on him, wand raised with an incantation on his lips.

“Whoa, easy there. I come in peace,” the werewolf joked, hands raised to breast height.

“Has anyone ever told you not to do that?“

“Yes, as a matter of fact, Harry did mention that once,” Lupin chuckled. “You can put the wand down now, you know.”

“Right.” Milliardo did so and slipped it back into his robe pocket, returning to hunting through the drawers for the lesson plan he just knew was hidden in some deep, dark forgotten corner of no return.

Remus shrugged and leaned against the wall. The other man continued to ignore his presence and that was just fine. Since he’d been let out of the hospital ward, Remus had been visiting Milliardo between classes, offering his help in certain matters and being completely ignored. He understood. Peacecraft had gotten by on his own for a long time now, and an offer of help wasn’t something he was used to, so Lupin ended up just watching him quietly as he went and did everything for himself, no matter what difficulty he came across.

Not today, though. Today, the man wouldn’t find what he was looking for because it was hiding in the breast pocket of Lupin’s robes. He smirked to himself, knowing it was only a matter of time before Milliardo figured it out, and so, he continued to wait. Sure enough…

“I was sure… Lupin, what have you done with my lesson plan?”

Finally, the werewolf thought. Now it was time to get to get down to business and go over the reworked schedule for the next month. He may not be fit to take any classes but his experience as a teacher would see that Zechs taught the children everything they needed to know.

“Let’s have a little talk about the homework assignments for next week, shall we? ...”

*

“Still no luck finding him, eh Heero?” Duo asked, looking over the boy’s shoulder as he pulled up what should have been restricted records. “Damn. He really did do a thorough job, didn’t he?”

“No less than you or I would,” Heero replied, paying little attention.

Wufei had gone missing about a fortnight ago, like he had promised to do once the four other operatives had finally gone off on their own missions once more. Two nights later, the order had come to locate and execute the traitor. At first, he had searched when Duo was asleep or not around, but eventually the American had found out anyway. That had been a tough night. Duo had been shocked that his partner would even consider killing one of their own, and it had taken a gun to his head to make him listen to the truth. Heero had no intention of killing the G.U.N.D.A.M fugitive. 

“Do not mistake me. I will do my job to the best of my ability and carry out orders as they have been given. Even so, I know, as I’m sure do Doctor J and the others, that there is no possibility of finding Chang,” he told his partner. “Soon, they will give up and send me a new mission, and it will be as if he never existed.”

After nearly two weeks, new orders had not come, and Heero continued to search through state records and documents that might contain a hint of Wufei, but there was nothing. The hospital he had been born in never even recorded his mother checking in. Of course, these things would not lead him to the whereabouts of the Chinese boy, but he was curious as to just how far Wufei had gone to eradicate his existence. 

It didn’t take Heero long to recognize Duo’s lapse into thoughtfulness, and he pretended to keep searching whilst waiting for whatever the boy was preparing to ask him. “Heero?” the hesitant voice asked eventually. “What happens if you do manage to find him?”

“I… I don’t know, Duo.” His eyes never faltered from the computer screen. “I guess I’ll just have to complete my mission.” The American nodded solemnly and looked away, having expected such an answer. “Duo…” Heero’s hands paused over the keyboard and he stared ahead of him for a moment, trying to think of something, anything he could say to comfort his partner. “Never mind. You should get some rest.” Heero had resumed searching once again when a little red light blinked down in the corner of the screen. It looked as though he finally had new orders.

*

Hermione stood in the Quidditch stands beside Hagrid and cheered along with the most of the crowd as the Gryffindor team took their places on the field. This was the first match of the season and Harry, Ron, and Ginny had been so excited that morning. All three could be seen grinning and ready to enjoy the match against Ravenclaw.

In no time, both teams were in the air. Harry and Cho were circling far above the others, Ron was manning the goals, and Ginny was zooming up and down the field in her debut as a chaser. Collin Creevey was announcing the match and had launched into a detailed replay of the Ravenclaw keeper’s brilliant save.

Hermione paid little interest to the game, at first turning her eyes towards Harry. He was very high up and obviously searching for the snitch in hopes of locating it before the rival seeker did. Seeing the two of them up there together distracted Hermione from the match completely.

Only last year, Harry had been smitten with the older Ravenclaw. He’d had a crush on her since third year and had finally managed, last year, to get her to go on a date with him. Well, vice versa, really. That should have been her first clue as to Harry’s true preference, and there were many more where that came from. Now that she thought about it, Harry’s relationship with Wufei didn’t seem as sudden as it had originally.

Ginny had been right about the way Wufei affected him. That much was evident in the turn around his attitude had taken since hearing his boyfriend was in their world. The weariness and sorrow which had seemed to lie so heavily on him since their return to school was almost gone, and when he smiled, it was for real, instead of the patronizing,   
‘I-really-have-nothing-to-smile-about-but-if-it-will-get-you-off-my-case…’ half smile that Hermione had really come to hate. It was good to see the old Harry coming back to them.

On the other hand, the more Hermione looked at Ginny, the more she noticed just how much the girl had grown without them noticing. Somehow, she’d managed to hide from all of them the maturity she’d developed. Everyone still thought of her as innocent, kind, funny little Ginny Weasley, but now Harry and Hermione had gotten a peek under that false exterior into something darker. Hermione was the only one who knew it for what it was and even then, only because Ginny had all but told her.

Hermione had really begun to worry about the younger witch. She couldn’t help thinking about the things she had been told that night in confidence. Of course, the ordeal the poor girl went through in the Chamber of Secrets was bad enough, but to have been studying dark magic in secret at her age? Who knew what kind of effects that could have on a person? Hermione worried that studying something so morbid was taking its toll on Ginny and that she would forever be marked by it.

“Ginny Weasley takes a goal for Gryffindor!” A roar of cheers went up around her and Hermione was startled out of her gloomy thoughts. 

She looked up to see Ginny make a quick celebratory loop before zooming down the pitch to assist her fellow chasers in retrieving the quaffle. She really did look like such a natural up there; flaming red hair floating upon the wind, a look of determination on her face. Hermione smiled to herself, and promised that if Wufei could save Harry, then she could do so for Ginny.

*

Harry continued to search for the golden snitch whilst keeping an eye on Cho Chang. He could see her searching a little desperately since Ravenclaw was so far behind. Thanks to Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor was in the lead by about sixty points, now. Although, if Cho caught the snitch, the other team would still win by ninety points.

Even as he searched, Harry couldn’t help but reminisce about his old feelings for the Asian seeker. He used to believe that she was the most unattainable thing on this planet until she had kissed him. He should have realized at that moment that he wasn’t truly interested in her; that it was a passing infatuation. There were no fireworks, no passionate fluttering in his stomach, nothing that indicated a wild romance. 

With Wufei, he had felt warm to begin with; almost like he’d found a safe little pocket of the world in which he could hide forever. Then came the time when they’d been allowed to indulge in each other again after a very long week. Warm didn’t even begin to describe it, more like heated, downright volcanic!

His thoughts had run away with him and Harry was suddenly chagrined to discover that riding his broom was becoming quite an uncomfortable experience. Vaguely, he heard an announcement that Gryffindor had reached 100 points above Ravenclaw.

“Harry, are you okay?” Cho asked him, riding close.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” He thought it odd that she’d ask something like that in the middle of a game.

“You look a little flushed, that’s all. And I could have sworn that you were a million miles from here.” Cho smiled at him, not noticing the blush that followed her observation.

“I was just thinking…” he replied a little absently. “I don’t suppose you’ve caught any sign of the snitch,” he added with a wink, trying to change the subject.

The Ravenclaw laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t tell you, would I? But, as a matter of fact…” 

Suddenly, she made an unexpected dive, heading straight for the Gryffindor stands. Riding low, she whooshed over the students’ heads, grinning as Harry followed after a moment later.

As they zoomed over the heads of his fellow house-mates, something caught Harry’s eye. As he flew past, he turned his head slightly and almost fell off his broom to see who was sitting in the stands next to Molly Weasley. 

Wufei waved at him and once he’d finally caught up with himself, he waved back. Unfortunately, this gave Cho an advantage of speed and Harry had to drag his mind back to the task at hand. He flattened himself to the broom and concentrated solely on catching up to Cho, but realized too late as the girl made a sudden turn, straight back in his direction. On the spur of the moment, he did the only thing he could think of and veered out in front of her, causing her to pull off course, just in time to avoid a head-on collision, but not to miss whacking him in the face with the tail end of her broom.

Harry felt his head snap backwards and he lost his balance for one terrifying moment, forgetting the pain as he struggled to stay in the air, and then it all came right back to him as he felt warm blood trickle down his chin. Slightly dizzy and sporting the makings of a large headache, Harry pushed it to the back of his mind and forced himself to focus through the pain. Cho was momentarily frozen by what had happened. She seemed horrified to see the blood covering her opponents chin and had obviously forgotten the game. 

That’s when Harry noticed it. The snitch had been right in front of Cho before it took a sharp turn and had just raced passed Harry’s ear. He turned his Firebolt as fast as possible, and ignoring his spinning head, reached out and just clasped the snitch in his hand, tipping himself off balance and falling what seemed like a very long way. He never even felt himself hit the ground, as he had passed out on the way.


	12. Chapter 12

Wufei watched in horror as Harry was first smacked in the head with a broom, and then fell from his own, passing out on the way. He was frozen in place as the crowd all stood to get a better look, buzzing and chattering busily. The announcer said something that caused somewhat of a bright reaction among the majority of the crowd, but he was too focused on Harry to take it in.

Numbly, he looked at the witch beside him, biting his lip, afraid to voice his fears. She muttered soothing phrases such as: “It’s all right, dear.” “He’ll be fine.” “These sorts of things happen in Quidditch all the time.” “Poppy will have him up and about in no time. You’ll see.”

The crowd slowly filed out of the stands and he now had a better view of what was happening down below. Harry had been placed on a stretcher with several adults and students milling around. All of them were sent away and the stretcher was magically transported off towards the school.

“Molly?” he asked, looking up.

“Come on, we’ll follow after them. After she’s fixed him up a bit, I’m sure Poppy will let us wait for him to come around. Let’s go.” She indicated the exit with her head, and together they joined the flow of people leaving the stands and walked across the grounds.

*

Heero could hardly believe the message which had been sent to him. For several minutes he stared at it and then reread it once more. “Duo,” he said finally. “We have a new mission.”

“Well, it’s about time!” Duo was plaiting his hair and spoke around the tie in his mouth. “Details?”

“I think you should read them yourself. In fact, I’ll print out a copy for the other two. This is for all of us,” Heero revealed. He clicked on the print option, and once it was done, he placed the sheet in front of Duo.

Halfway through doing his hair, Duo gasped, eyes growing wide as he dropped what he was doing and picked up the page in front of him. “This has got to be some sort of joke… You can’t seriously be considering this, Heero.”

The Japanese boy just shrugged nonchalantly as he packed away his laptop and placed his gun in the waistband of his clothes. “Those are the orders I received, and those are the orders I will follow.”

“But, Heero, this is nonsense! Treize Khushrenada has allied himself with an evil wizard? Come on! What a load of crap! The guys up top must be insane. They want us to meet our informant in a place that no one can see, for starters. Then they want us to protect some kid named Harry Potter with a lightning shaped scar?” Duo tied off the plait he’d resumed, and then grabbed hold of Heero’s shoulders. “What is wrong with this picture?”

Heero froze for a moment under the boy’s touch. Once his mind caught up with him, he brushed Duo’s hands off his shoulders. “The inn can be seen if you’re looking for it, and I’ve heard that name before.”

“Where? In a children’s story?” Duo snorted. “I am NOT going along with this.”

“Then you can stay here. I’m going to contact Quatre and Trowa, and tell them where to meet me. If you feel like coming along, you have the directions.” Heero walked out the door, knowing that his partner wouldn’t be too far behind.

He had indeed recognized the name of their charge. Harry Potter was the boy Wufei was seeing. The one who had already gone off to school before he and Duo had arrived in Little Whinging. Heero remembered the way Wufei had talked about the boy, and he was sure that wherever the missing operative was, he was with Harry. It seemed as though they would be killing two birds with one stone.

*

An owl tapped persistently on the window and Dumbledore cleared away the pensieve he’d been sorting through. He let the bird in and took the letter it carried in its beak. “Thank you, my dear friend,” he rumbled in his cheery voice, and scattered some owl treats for it from the box beside the sill.

Returning to his desk, the headmaster opened the letter and scanned the contents. “Well, Merlin’s Beard,” he muttered. “I must show this to Hagrid at once!” Dumbledore scratched thoughtfully at his beard. The letter was one he’d been waiting for since Milliardo’s story, and he was ready to see to the matter.

As the tawny owl flew off out the window, he heard a sharp hoot in the night air and pulled on a warm cloak. It seemed that he had some arrangements to prepare.

*

Heero and Duo had met with Trowa and Quatre in a quaint little coffee shop in London. The latter two had been shown the mission details and there had been a short argument about the legitimacy of the orders. Soon, that had been put aside, however, and Quatre had pointed out that it couldn’t hurt to look for the place. If they couldn’t find it, then they knew it would be a hoax. Heero neglected to mention that not finding the inn didn’t really mean anything as they may not be able to find it in the first place.

That argument settled, the boys set into business mode, and he began to plan ahead, allocating roles within the mission. “One of us is needed to infiltrate the enemy’s ranks, two to guard the boy, and one more to keep watch in the nearby town,” Heero reasoned.

“I was trained especially in infiltration, so-“

“Trowa, you and Duo will stay with the boy. I will join the enemy.” Heero had expected that Trowa would nominate himself but he couldn’t let him do so. It would hurt Duo too much to see his lover walk away yet again, and this way they could spend more time together.

“But, Heero-“

“No. My skills are equal to yours, if not better; I simply have greater skills in most general areas. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Then, that leaves me to keep watch on the town,” said Quatre, cutting off any further argument. 

Heero knew that Quatre had seen through him, and he was grateful. Not only did he want Duo to be happy, but it was too painful to see him so with someone else. Besides, he could focus better if he didn’t need to worry about Duo.

Once everything was settled, the four boys left the café and began their search for the inn. They located it easily enough—to their great surprise—and soon made their way into a cluttered pub full of oddly dressed people.

*

Harry sighed. He was comfortably wrapped in Wufei’s arms. His boyfriend was stroking his nose. Odd that he should be doing that, really. Then again, his body was very comfortable, almost like a blanket… Harry felt nice and snug and warm and safe… and sore. Sore? Why sore? 

Blearily, the boy’s eyes opened and he winced against the harsh light. It was bad enough that he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he felt as though he’d just stepped straight out of Snape’s dungeons and onto the Quidditch pitch on a sunny day. The Quidditch pitch…

As if the memory cued his pain, Harry groaned. He began to remember what had happened: the chase for the snitch, seeing ‘Fei in the stands, getting hit in the face by Cho’s broom… His nose must have been broken and he probably had some sort of a concussion, judging by how dizzy he’d felt whilst he’d tried to catch the snitch. Had he caught the snitch? Yes… He’d just grasped it in his fingers… right before he fell off of his broom.

“Oh, Harry dear! You’re awake! That’s so good to see,” Mrs. Weasley crooned. “Poppy! Harry’s coming around!”

Harry knew that she meant well but her high pitched voice did nothing for the dull ache in his head. Suddenly, he felt his pillow being raised and he was sitting up a little uncomfortably. His glasses were placed in his hands and he fumbled a little before placing them over his eyes. Once they were secure, Harry blinked several times, trying to adjust his vision.

“Here you are, dear. Drink this. I’m sure you must have an awful headache. Not that it isn’t your own fault. You kids, always racing around on brooms, falling off, getting hit by balls… and you! You’re the worst! You and those friends of yours! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a student spend so much time in the infirmary since… Since James Potter!” Madame Pomfrey bustled about, checking his leg, which must have been injured or broken in the fall. She pressed on his nose, which ached a little, but at least it didn’t feel broken. 

Harry tried to drink down the potion she had given him and grimaced. It did seem to be helping his vision focus, though, so he drank the rest of it and just sat with his eyes closed for a moment. 

“There, now. You should be all right. I’m giving your visitors only half an hour, and then you must rest. Did you hear me? Half an hour!” This time she addressed the people at his bedside and then left to attend to another patient a couple of beds down.

After taking a couple of deep breaths to try and dislodge the taste of that awful drink from his mouth, Harry opened his eyes once more, still a little fuzzy, like his mind, but now he could discern specific figures. And he was so glad that he could. “Wufei… You’re here.”

“Yes. Molly asked the headmaster for permission to bring me to the game. Interesting sport. Interesting and dangerous…” Wufei trailed off.

“Don’t you frown at me like that, it was worth it.” Harry grinned, forgetting Mrs. Weasley’s presence for the time being. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Harry,” Wufei said softly. He was smiling as well, and wished more than anything that he could take Harry into his arms and kiss him. 

Harry’s smile broke out into a grin, but soon dissipated with the sudden dizzy spell that came over him.

“Here, Harry, lie down. That’s it… I’ll get some chocolate for you.” Mrs. Weasley eased him back down onto the bed and then stroked his hair back off of his forehead before leaving the two of them alone while she spoke to Madame Pomfrey.

“I’m so glad you’re here, ‘Fei. I’ve missed you.” The injured boy felt a hand cover his own and looked up, surprised to see moisture in Wufei’s eyes. “What is it?”

“I was so worried, Harry. When I saw you fall… I was sure that… that…” He took a deep breath and tried to rephrase. “I didn’t think anyone could survive that fall.”

Harry chuckled, trying to make light of the situation. “They don’t call me ‘The Boy Who Lived’ for nothing.” He caught Wufei’s frown, but was thankful that his boyfriend didn’t comment any further. Changing the subject, Harry asked, “How long will you be staying?”

“Professor Dumbledore said that so long as I don’t cause too much trouble, I can stay in the spare dorm for as long as I like.” He replied, smiling. “Arthur and Molly have been very kind to me, and as much as I love life at the Burrow, I think I would rather spend time here with you.”

Harry chuckled. “That’s good to hear.”

“Here you are, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley had come back with a massive bar of chocolate and was breaking it up into pieces. “Now, Poppy has said that you will be allowed out by tonight, as long as you eat all of that, and stay in bed for the rest of the day. I’m going to go visit Ron and Ginny, but I’ll be back to say goodbye before I leave.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Um, Mrs. Weasley? Thanks for looking after ‘Fei,” he said with a blush.

The woman simply laughed and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “It was my pleasure, dear. You certainly have good taste in company!”

His blush deepened as the curtains around them were closed off, and Wufei grinned at him. “You really are too cute sometimes, you know that?”

Before he could reply, Wufei had leaned over and their lips were brushing together just slightly. After a moment or two, the Muggle pulled away and handed him a piece of chocolate. “Now, start eating. I don’t want to see you in this infirmary a second longer than you need to be.”


	13. Chapter 13

Zechs growled in frustration and rounded on the man who insisted on hovering over his shoulder as he marked the fourth years’ essays. “Do you have nothing better to do than annoy me?”

“Not really, no. But I don’t think of it so much as annoy, but rather… bug.” Lupin seemed far too cheerful. More cheerful than any man rightfully should be.

“Why don’t you go visit that half-pint trouble maker you’re so attached to? I’m sure he’s in need of some company right now. And after that fall of his, I would have thought you’d be fawning all over him,” the professor suggested. 

“Oh, I don’t think my company would be welcome at the moment-“

“And it is here?” Zechs cut in.

Lupin ignored him and continued. “Let’s just say he has all the company he needs. For quite a while. In fact, I think he’d be perfectly happy never to see another face ever again.”

“I don’t even want to know… Now, do you mind? I have work to do.” Zechs pointedly turned back to the paper and continued perusing the work of Dennis Creevey. “Those damn Creevey kids are obsessed with Harry Potter! Dennis has mentioned him three times in this essay so far!”

“Well, he is quite an extraordinary boy, you know.” Lupin finally settled down a little, and pulled a chair over next to Zechs. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Harry.”

“Can’t it wait? I really have-“

“No. It can’t. This is serious.” Lupin waited a moment for the professor to put down the quill and face him. “Albus filled me in on most of your story, and I need to know anything you can tell me about those the Muggle’s will send for his protection.” 

Zechs frowned. Remus was obviously concerned for Harry’s safety. It always amazed him just how much the man truly cared. After everything he’d gone through, the only thing that seemed to help him was Harry, and there was no mistaking the fatherly devotion he showed towards the boy. He wished there was more he could do.

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair and looked up. “There isn’t much I can tell you, I’m afraid. All I know is that there are five of them who are highly trained in matters of espionage and underground warfare. All of them are ruthless, dedicated, and adept at almost any Muggle skill they aim to master.”

“But how could Muggles protect him from a wizard? And if we don’t know who they are, then how-“

“I don’t know, Remus. I honestly don’t know. But we can use all the help we get. We’re going to need it.” His gaze softened, and he reached out to smooth back a lock of Lupin’s hair. “The only advice I can give you is to wait and stop worrying about things you can’t change. Now, here, make yourself useful and help me mark some of these essays, alright? Harry will be fine and, as you well know, there is nothing further you can do to protect him at this point.”

*

Ginny was up in her dorm doing her daily meditation exercise and visualizing herself as a slim reddish fox. There was a party going on downstairs, but she wasn’t in the mood. Sure, she was really excited that they’d won the game and that Harry was okay and everything, but she just didn’t feel comfortable around so many people. The common room was more packed than usual, and it made her feel out of place.

Her mother had come to visit in the afternoon and said that Harry had come around. Ginny would have visited him but Wufei was there and they needed some time alone. So she had snuck upstairs after about an hour, and figuring she’d be alone for a while, decided it was a good time to visualize.

Usually, she did her exercises in the prefect’s bathroom where she was less likely to be disturbed and easily able to relax in the big bath. The other prefects knew to let her be if she was in there, and didn’t talk to her unless it was something important.

Just as she was really getting tuned in to the image in her mind, there came a soft knock on the door. “Ginny?” 

The redhead sighed and looked up as the door opened hesitantly and Hermione walked in. 

“Hi, Ginny,” Hermione greeted her, her voice infused with a little brightness that she seemed to work hard at maintaining. “Mind if I sit down?”

Ginny shook her head and slid back a little on her bed. “What’s up?”

Despite her cheerful tone, Hermione looked slightly hesitant, and wouldn’t look Ginny in the eye when she spoke. “Everyone downstairs was wondering where you were. After all, you’re a bit of a hero after the game today.”

“I didn’t feel like partying. There are too many people downstairs, and I figured it would be a good time to do some meditation,” Ginny answered, wondering why Hermione had come after her.

“Meditation?” the sixth year asked.

“Yes. I usually do about an hour a day,” Ginny answered, shifting uncomfortably. She trusted Hermione, but she wasn’t sure what the older girl would say if she knew why Ginny was meditating.

“Oh? What for? I’ve heard that it’s a great way to focus your magic, but I can’t seem to do it myself.” Hermione’s face fell. “I guess it’s one of those things you can’t learn out of books, huh? If I was a better witch, that wouldn’t matter.”

“Oh, Hermione, don’t be silly. You’re the best witch I know. It just takes a lot of concentration and conditioning before you can reach a state of true meditation.” Ginny placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I could help you, if you want. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I have to if… I’m sure with a little coaching, you can do it.”

“What were you going to say? You have to if… what?” Hermione swung her legs up onto the bed and crossed them. Her eyes were narrowed slightly. “Ginny, you can tell me anything. What are you hiding?”

The Weasley girl looked down shyly. “You have to promise not to tell Dumbledore or any of the professors…” She took a deep breath and then looked Hermione in the eyes. “I’m training to become an animagus.”

There was a brief silence whilst Hermione took in what she’d heard. “Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone, Ginny. But, are you sure about this? I mean, it’s a dangerous process, and illegal too.”

“I know, but I need to do this. Ever since second year, I’ve been afraid that my skill as a witch isn’t enough to protect me. I’m only a small person but if I could become an animal—a fox in my case—I’d have a better chance against a stronger opponent. I’d have better natural defences, and it’s not so easy to hit a moving fox with a spell. It’s important now more than ever. With Voldemort on the rise, I want to be able to do something. We all know that Harry will be targeted again and again, and I won’t let him face that evil bastard alone anymore. Besides… Sirius was training me. He helped me get as far as heightening my senses when I attempted to transform. It’s not as though I’ve been doing this alone…”

“Sirius helped you?” Hermione bit her lip and watched the change come over Ginny once more. “Oh, Ginny!” She leaned forward and took the younger girl into her arms. “I understand, and if there’s anything I can do to help, then I will. If you feel you need to do this, then I’ll help you. I know I don’t have the experience that Sirius did, but I’ve done a lot of reading, and if you want me to, I’ll be there for you.”

Ginny didn’t answer. She had been taken by surprise to see Hermione react so strongly. It made her feel good, though, to know that Hermione wanted to help her, that she wouldn’t argue, and that she cared so much. For the first time since Sirius’ death, she felt like she could do this, like she could go on.

The two girls stayed like that for a while, neither saying anything, Ginny resting contentedly on Hermione’s shoulder and taking comfort in the delicate arms around her back. Finally she pulled away and looked into Hermione’s dark eyes. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised by what happened next. It felt like a logical step as the older girl reached out and tilted her chin up, cupping her cheek, the other arm snaking around her waist. Ginny let herself be drawn close once again, her own arms circling around Hermione’s shoulders as their lips touched lightly.

The kiss was awkward and a little hesitant. Both girls were too busy thinking of what the other would say afterwards to enjoy it. When they broke apart, Ginny blushed and looked down at the bed cover.

“So…” she muttered.

“So…” Hermione replied.

Then they both began to speak at the same time.

“Sorry about that-“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

Then an awkward silence followed as they each thought desperately for something less embarrassing to say, both of them searching the walls or floor for answers.

It was Hermione who broke the silence, finally deciding that something, anything, needed to be said. “I’m sorry, Ginny. That was out of line. I-I’ll go, if you want…”

“No!” Ginny looked at her and chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “It’s ok. I… I didn’t mind…” she mumbled, blushing again.

“Oh, uh, good. I-“

“If you wanted to do it again… I wouldn’t complain,” the redhead said, barely above a whisper.

Hermione watched her for a moment and then smiled. “I was hoping you might say that.” 

The girls looked into each other’s eyes for a moment more, and then both leaned forward and touched lips again. Ginny crawled forward a little and pulled Hermione closer. This time, she opened her lips and felt the other girl do the same. Once again, their arms went around each other as the kiss progressed. Soon, their tongues were intertwined in a soft caress, Ginny’s face cupped in Hermione’s hand, their bodies pressed together as they both breathed heavily through their noses.

This time, Ginny broke the kiss and rested her forehead on Hermione’s shoulder. She stayed like that for a moment, breathing in the scent of the older girl’s hair and listening as they both slowly regained their breath.

“So,” Ginny began, once she was ready to speak again. “You want some help with meditation?”

“I’d appreciate that very much,” Hermione answered, smiling happily. “And then you can show me how far you’ve gotten with the transformation.”

“I’d like that.” Ginny was smiling too and soon they both went back down to the party now that the chaser was in a better mood.

*

Hagrid had been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of hours. His orders from Dumbledore had been very vague. He was to wait until several young boys approached him and one of them spoke the phrase, “James’ Glasses are On His Seat.” To that he would reply, “How Did The Quidditch War end?”

Once his contacts had been revealed, he was to floo them straight to Dumbledore’s office where the elderly wizard could greet them and discuss their purpose and plans.

Several hours later after drinking quite a lot, Hagrid was about ready to shout out his end of the puzzle and hope that someone would reply so he could get back to the castle. He was beginning to get a little bored waiting around. It was a slow day at the inn and nothing exciting had happened since Dedalus Diggle tripped down the stairs at about 6:00 in the evening.

Tom poured him another drink and just as he took a deep swallow, a voice behind him drawled in a deep voice. “James’ Glasses are On His Seat.” This caused Hagrid to choke on his mouthful, and he started coughing heavily. Unfortunately, this drew a lot of attention from the few patrons that were still hanging around in the tavern. 

Gasping and still coughing a little, Hagrid stood and spun, his drink sloshing over the floor. It took him a moment to look down to where he saw four teenage boys standing in front of him. One of them was sniggering behind his hand, another looked worried, the third, slightly amused, and the fourth was glaring around at the people who were staring at them.

“Uh, How-How Did The Quidditch War end?” Hagrid asked weakly, finishing with a cough.

“This must be our guy,” said the boy who had been laughing. “So, what happens now?”

“If you’ll jus’ follow me…” Hagrid urged, leading them towards the fireplace from where he pulled a special bag of floo powder from his pocket. He threw a pinch into the fire which turned bright purple. “Jus’ step into the flames an’ say ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Headmaster’s Office’.”

One by one, the four—absurdly young—boys followed his instructions and disappeared into the flames. Once they were through, Hagrid followed after, replacing the restricted floo powder back in the pocket of his coat and wondering what on Earth these striplings could possibly contribute to the safety of his equally young friend.

*

Once the five people were gone, Tom, the bartender, disappeared into his private room behind the bar and began to scribble a note on a handy piece of parchment. It read only:

The elephant has taken the cubs to the lion. 

Owl.

Then he tied it to the leg of a Tawny Frog Mouth, which waited by the window for just such a message. Once it was secure, the bird flew away and Tom returned to the public eye, already having forgotten ever writing a letter as the Ignoraniant Charm took effect.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry was relieved to finally be released from the Infirmary. As far as he was concerned, he’d spent a little too much time there over the years. He and Wufei were on their way to Gryffindor Tower when they ran into none other than Draco Malfoy.

As soon as Harry caught sight of the slicked blond head, he turned back the way they’d come, dragging Wufei with him, but it was too late. He’d been spotted.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘The Wonderful Mr. Harry Potter,” the Slytherin snivelled.

Harry’s teeth ground together and he contemplated whether to ignore Malfoy or to retort when his decision was made for him.

“And you are?” Wufei asked coolly, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“No concern of yours,” the boy answered, taking in the Muggle clothes Wufei wore. “At least, not unless by some miracle, you’re a pureblooded wizard, which I sincerely doubt.”

“Not an ounce of wizard blood in me as far as I know. Do you have a problem with that?” Wufei crossed his arms over his chest, subtly assessing—and dismissing—Draco as a fighter.

“What if I do?” taunted the smaller boy.

“Then I suggest you get over it,” Wufei answered crisply before continuing down the hall and past Malfoy, making a subtle show of his lack of concern. “Coming, Harry?”

Harry had closely watched the whole exchange and was ready when Malfoy drew his wand. “Petrificus Totalus!” he cried, pointing his own at Malfoy. As the Slytherin’s limbs sprang together, he keeled over, face forward onto the floor. “Nice try, Malfoy. You know, you really aren’t much without your goons watching your back.”

Together, Harry and Wufei continued on their way, leaving Draco to be found by a student or teacher, and not much caring of the consequences. By the time they reached Gryffindor Tower, they forgot all about the boy who was lying frozen in a dark corridor. They entered to a chorus of cheers, and Harry was swept up in the buzz of congratulations and enquiries as to how he was. About half an hour after they arrived there, Ginny and Hermione came down from the girls’ dormitories.

Ron was in the centre of the room, loudly retelling the story of a particularly difficult save he had made and tried to drag Harry and Ginny into it, but neither really wanted the attention. Harry, Wufei, Ginny, and Hermione sat in a relatively quiet corner of the common room, after establishing that they weren’t part of the entertainment, and the two girls got to know Wufei a little better.

He couldn’t be sure, but Harry thought that Hermione seemed to be drilling ‘Fei as though she were a parent or older sibling assessing the suitability of a date. But she couldn’t know, could she? After all, he hadn’t told anyone but Ginny. Of course, there was always the possibility that Hermione had figured it out all on her own. Or even that Harry was just being paranoid and reading too far into things. He’d have to have a little talk with Ginny, though, to find out if Hermione really did know anything. Even so, if she did know, she didn’t seem to mind all that much.

Eventually, the party wore down and Harry began to get a little tired after such an excitable day. Hermione and Ginny both went upstairs, and Harry and Wufei took that as their cue to leave as well.

*

Draco had been making his way back from the owlery when he spotted Potter and a foreign boy walking towards him. Just as he was about to say something, the Gryffindor spotted him and began to walk away.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘The Wonderful Mr. Harry Potter,” he called, trying to gain his enemy’s attention. He was sick of being ignored, and he needed their rivalry to keep himself from falling into a brooding, angsty mess.

He hadn’t expected the other boy to react, and was caught off guard by his question. “And you are?”

“No concern of yours.” Who did that boy think he was? Strolling around the corridors in Muggle clothes with Harry Potter, ‘The Boy Who Lived’. Draco didn’t need to waste his time on some glory seeking idiot who couldn’t even wear a proper pair of robes. He obviously wasn’t from the school; it would be hard to miss someone so attractive, so he must have been a friend from outside. “At least, not unless by some miracle, you’re a pureblooded wizard, which I sincerely doubt.”

“Not an ounce of wizard blood in me as far as I know. Do you have a problem with that?” He should have known. Who else but Potter would bring a Muggle into the school? Well, it looked like Draco would finally be getting some action.

“What if I do?” he taunted.

“Then I suggest you get over it.” Draco sneered. How dare that filthy Muggle brush him off like that? “Coming, Harry?”

Just as he reached for his wand to teach the bugger a lesson, he heard Potter cry out a spell behind him. “Petrificus Totalus!” 

As he fell to the floor, face first, Draco’s eyes widened in shock. “Nice try, Malfoy. You know, you really aren’t much without your goons watching your back.”

He heard the two boys walking away, laughing. For the first time since he was a child, Draco wanted to cry. He knew that it was a sign of utter weakness, that to let one tear fall would prove that he was just as unworthy of the Malfoy title as his grovelling fool of a father. Still, a tear fell, and several more after that. 

*

“Whoa!” Duo cried as he fell out of a new fireplace and rolled to his feet. “Now that’s a ride I wouldn’t wait in line for…”

He looked around the room he’d landed in. It was filled with odd gizmos and gadgets and the walls were covered in portraits. Portraits that were moving and talking…

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me!”

Staring in wonder at the walls, Duo walked up close to one and poked it. The inhabitant of the painting, a squat witch with frizzy blond hair, cried out in indignation and muttered furiously under her breath.

“Duo,” growled a voice behind him, “Don’t touch anything!” 

The braided boy winced and pulled his hand away slowly. “Of course not, Heero. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He whistled quietly as he surveyed the rest of the room and his eyes came to rest on a sickly looking bird. He was just taking a step toward it when suddenly it erupted into a column of flame. “I didn’t touch anything, I swear!” 

“What have you done now?” Trowa asked after landing gracefully in the fireplace, just in time to see Duo panic.

“Nothing! Honestly!” He backed away from the pile of ash, hands behind his back.

The tall gymnast just sighed and shook his head, sharing a knowing look with Heero.

Quatre was the next to come through the fire. He landed in a heap on the floor by Trowa’s feet and the taller boy held out a hand to help him up.

“Thanks,” Quatre said to him. “Remind me never to do that again, okay?”

“You might want to move before the big guy comes through,” Duo suggested helpfully.

“Uh, right.” Quatre and Trowa moved away just in time as Hagrid landed off balance and stumbled forward a few steps. 

“Well, ‘ere we are, then. Professor Dumbledore will be down in a minute. Jus’ wait ‘ere fer ‘im,” the large man told them before striding over to a door on the far side of the room and exiting down a winding staircase.

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon after their contact left, a door on the other side of the room opened and a tall man with long platinum hair entered, followed by an elderly man in strange, colourful robes.

“Good evening. I do hope you were well met,” the old man said.

Despite his looks, Duo had the feeling that this man wasn’t quite as frail as he’d have them belief. There was a presence just radiating from him that spoke of wisdom and hidden strength.

“If you’d all like to take a seat, perhaps we could discuss why you are here,” the man continued. As they all sat down around a desk that seemed to appear in the middle of the room, Duo glanced somewhat guiltily towards the pile of ash that he couldn’t help but feel like he’d be blamed for. “Ah, I see you’ve met Fawkes. Do not worry, he is a phoenix and will soon rise from the ashes. Most unfortunate that you caught him on a burning day… Lemon sherbet?”

He didn’t get a word of it, but if this guy wasn’t worried about it then Duo felt a bit better about the incident and happily accepted the offer of a sweet, ignoring the glare that Heero threw his way. “Sure, why not?”

*

Wufei led Harry up to the private room that had been arranged for him as temporary guest accommodations in Gryffindor Tower, where they sat on the edge of the bed to chat. 

“Did you get the feeling that your friend Hermione was interrogating me?” Wufei inquired once they were settled.

“You noticed that, too, huh?” Harry asked as he popped the lid off of a butterbeer bottle he’d taken from the party. 

“Have you told her about us?” The Chinese boy took the bottle offered to him and took a sip.

“No. Only Ginny. Don’t get me wrong, Hermione is one of my best friends, but I’m not sure what she’d say about, well, us. I hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but Ginny already knew,” Harry explained.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll have a problem there, even if she does know. Judging by how close she was to Ginny, I’d say she understands all too well.” Wufei snorted and handed the bottle back to Harry.

The young wizard stared at him blankly for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“What? You haven’t noticed? They were both flushed when they came downstairs. Both had swollen lips and neither of them was wearing make-up. On top of that, their legs were brushing together throughout the whole conversation,” the Chinese boy replied.

“You’re not saying… But, Ginny and Dean! At least, I thought they were… Ginny and Hermione? No way. That’s just too odd. Ron would freak!” Harry suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter at what he imagined would be the look on Ron’s face. “I will DEFINITELY have to have that talk with Ginny,” he finally said with a grin.

Wufei watched in amusement. He was glad to see how happy Harry was. He’d heard all about what had happened with Lupin, and he’d been worried about what effects that might have on Harry. 

After the Quidditch game, he’d thought his love would be out for at least a day but, apparently, not in this world. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, he’d seen quite a few spectacular things at The Burrow, but he still hadn’t expected for Harry to be up and about so soon.

Harry seemed to notice that he was being watched and cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“Nothing,” Wufei said to him, and then he leaned forward and kissed Harry, pinning him down to the bed as he did so. “You just looked adorable, that’s all.”

Harry’s playful mood suddenly vanished and his heart began to race faster. “Wufei,” he whispered, lifting a hand to trace along a smooth, subtle cheekbone. 

He never had the time to say anything more. Soon, his mouth was once again preoccupied and he wrapped his arms around Wufei’s neck. He felt himself grow hard and arched up against Wufei’s body, delighting in the friction it caused.

Unfortunately, wizard healing could only go so far and after a couple of minutes, Harry’s head began to spin and he pulled back, breathing deeply and trying to focus his vision.

“Argh! Dammit!” Wufei sat back up immediately and Harry slowly followed. 

“Are you okay?” The Muggle asked. “Do you need to go back to the Hospital Ward?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I just need a good night’s rest, that’s all,” Harry told him and sighed. “I’m sorry, Wufei. I wanted to spend some more time with you, but I guess that isn’t going to happen tonight.”

“It’s okay. You go and get some sleep. I’ll be here for a while. Besides, you have classes tomorrow.” This only made Harry groan.

“Thank you for reminding me. I have Potions first up,” he complained.

“It can’t be all that bad,” Wufei said sceptically.

“Yes, it can. Snape is an evil, sadistic bastard whose sole purpose for in life is to make mine a living hell.” Harry stood up and straightened his clothes. “Well, do I at least get a kiss goodnight?”

Wufei joined him but refused anything more than a soft peck on the lips. “Now, go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	15. Chapter 15

Heero kept an eye on Duo, who was happily chewing on a lemon sherbet. He would have thought that the boy knew better than to accept anything from someone they hardly knew. There didn’t seem to be any immediate side effects, however, so he turned his attention back to the two men on the opposite side of the desk. The older one was sitting, observing them all with his fingers steepled on the desk. The other stood to the right of him. This man, too, was watching them.

The older man began to speak. “My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the Headmaster of this school. Before we attend to business, I’m sure that you all have a lot of questions. Perhaps we should start with introductions, though?”

“My name is Heero Yuy,” Heero offered. 

“Trowa Barton.”

“Duo Maxwell; pleased to meet ya!”

“Quatre Raberba Winner.”

At Quatre’s name, the younger man across from them barely hid a gasp. “Winner? As in, Winner corporations?”

“That’s me, I’m afraid. The estranged son and heir,” Quatre answered with a hint of sadness.

Heero stepped in to avoid any side-tracking. “And you are?”

“My name is Milliardo Peacecraft, but perhaps you might know me better by the alias Zechs Merquise,” he answered.

“Zechs Merquise, huh? As in, Treize Khushrenada’s right hand man?” Duo asked with a scowl.

“Former right hand man. I have renounced Romefeller and returned to my rightful place here in the wizarding world,” corrected Milliardo.

“Mr. Dumbledore, if I may ask, you mentioned that you were headmaster of ‘this school’. Where are we?” Quatre’s question was obviously intended to change the subject before the previous topic could be taken any further and side-track them all.

“We are in Scotland. More precisely, this is the Headmaster’s office inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore told them. “Even I am not certain of our exact location in Scotland. Hogwarts is unable to be plotted, and only the founders of the school know for sure.”

Duo snorted, drawing everyone’s attention. “I really can’t take much more of this,” he said. “Moving paintings, exploding birds… I just know I’m going to wake up any second.”

“The worlds of waking and sleeping often intertwine, but I am quite certain, Mr. Maxwell, that unless we are all sharing a dream, then this is very real.” Dumbledore’s eyes were sparkling behind his wire frames and there was a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth. “Even so, if this does turn out to be a dream, then what is the harm in playing along?”

Duo seemed to think about this for a moment before answering. “You make a good point.”

“Now, can we get back to the point?” Heero growled, glaring at Duo.

“Quite right you are, Mr. Yuy. Are there any more questions?” asked the Headmaster.

“The way we came here. What was that?” Trowa had been silently observing the conversation up until this point, but now he seemed ready to join in.

“Ahhh, we call that the Floo system. Fireplaces all throughout the wizarding world are connected in a network. This makes travel much easier, since our world is spread over several continents, but the European community is run from the Ministry of Magic in England. I, for one, prefer to fly by broomstick, but sometimes Floo travel is far more convenient, especially in matters of urgency,” Dumbledore explained at length.

At the mention of broomsticks, there was a quiet giggle from Duo. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands at the glare he received from Heero. “I’ll behave.”

This drew a bark of laughter from Heero but he quickly stifled it. To cover, he returned to the Headmaster. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

“Ah, yes. Very well. I received an owl this afternoon from an old Muggle friend. It contained information about G.U.N.D.A.M and it’s goals, and also informed me that four agents were being sent to us.” Dumbledore paused for a moment. “Now, as I’m sure you have been briefed, Treize Khushrenada has allied himself with a powerful dark wizard. This wizard is after a student at Hogwarts by the name of Harry Potter. For several years, he has tried to capture and kill Mr. Potter and failed. Every year, he grows more desperate. The four of you have been sent to guard one of the most famous wizards in the world.”

At this point, Milliardo spoke up. “I don’t understand how four teenaged boys can protect a wizard. Harry could probably defend himself better than any Muggle could.”

“Were you not trained as a Muggle soldier, Milliardo?” Dumbledore turned his gaze upon the tall man. “Can you name a wizard who could chant a spell faster than a bullet can fly?”

“No, sir. But I do know that Voldemort has scores of Death Eaters who would throw themselves in front of a bullet to save his life. I also know that not every bullet can kill,” he answered with a glance at the four boys. “And if a target is not killed, magic can easily save them.”

“You underestimate us,” Duo said softly. “Don’t judge us by our age. You should know better than most. Each of us has assassinated at least five of your men with only one bullet a piece.”

“You’re right.” Milliardo stared at Duo for a second, opened his mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. Finally he spoke again. “All I’m trying to say is that a Death Eater needs only one spell to kill. Give them one tiny window and it’s over.”

“We understand that,” Quatre said, speaking for all of them. “And we may not be able to help, but then again, we may. Isn’t it worth the risk to rid the world of such a dangerous entity?”

“You are quite correct, Mr. Winner. However, the mission is not only to exterminate Voldemort himself, but also to keep Harry Potter alive. Harry is a remarkable wizard for his age and has escaped certain death several times through luck and skill, but it most definitely could not hurt for him to have the protection that you four boys offer. I daresay, though, that there are others who will take it upon themselves to extend their protection to him, as well.” There was a hint of mirth in Dumbledore’s eyes and Heero could have sworn the man was hinting to him.

Now he was almost certain that Wufei was here, and all at once, he felt both relieved and anxious. How could he carry out his orders? Was he still expected to? Perhaps if Wufei cooperated with them on this mission, he wouldn’t have to…

Heero was pulled from his thoughts as Trowa’s voice cut through the speculative silence which had befallen them all. “Perhaps this would be a good time to make our mission clear. We have been sent to guard Harry Potter, but our primary objective is against Treize Khushrenada. It seems that these two objectives are parallel for the time being, but Treize is our priority no matter what the mission may be. Do not forget that.”

“I understand perfectly well, Mr. Barton, and I would not dream of hindering your purpose. On the contrary, I believe that if all goes well, we may come to form an alliance that could assist you in your mission,” Dumbledore answered with an underlying tone of hope.

“Perhaps, but I think any talk of alliances is ahead of its time. Right now, all we need to focus on is the current situation.” Heero watched as Dumbledore nodded and agreed once more. The old man was a puzzle to him. Whilst he seemed to take everything very lightly, he was also obviously very wise and knew more about a great many things he was letting on. “When will we meet the charge?”

“He will be in the Great Hall for breakfast tomorrow; along with his friends, who, I’m sure, will insist on being included in any meetings which may take place. I think, for the moment, it would be best to hear of some of the boy’s history with Voldemort. Milliardo will fill you in on those details whilst I attend to some business within the school.” Dumbledore stood up and bowed his head to them. “Please excuse me.”

The Headmaster strode past the table and left the room. After a short silence, Milliardo began to tell them of Harry’s exploits from his first year at Hogwarts up until the recent Quidditch game that afternoon. The tales were told in only minimal detail and probably only an hour and a half had passed by the time Dumbledore returned, just in time to hear the story of Sirius Black’s death.

Heero listened carefully and found that he was developing a kind of respect for the boy who had gone through so much. His own life had been full of death and destruction, but he was trained for it. This boy had never had a choice. 

When Milliardo finished, there was a short silence before Quatre spoke softly. “That’s quite a tale. No wonder this Voldemort wants to get rid of Harry.”

“Yes, well now that you know who you’re guarding and what from, I believe it’s time to hear what plans you may have made,” Dumbledore told them, cutting through the mood in the room.

This was Heero’s area. He had assumed somewhat of a commanding role in this mission. “Duo and Trowa will stay here to guard the target. Quatre will infiltrate the nearby village and keep an eye out, and I will join the ranks of the enemy as a spy.”

“I see. Perhaps, after tomorrow, you may wish to reconsider some of your decisions. As for you, Mr. Yuy, are you aware that there is a double agent right here in Hogwarts?” Dumbledore looked a little disturbed by the news that Heero planned to join Voldemort.

“I am. That doesn’t mean anything. It is my duty to provide my team with information. This is not something I would entrust to another person,” Heero answered. “I am also aware that he will kill me if he knows that I am what I believe is termed: a Muggle.” 

“And what do you plan to do about this?” Dumbledore asked, concern showing in his eyes.

“I’m still working on that.” This was a problem that Heero had yet to resolve.

“I may have an idea, if you are willing to hear it, but not tonight. It is well past time that we all got some rest. Quarters have been provided for you on the third floor. We can continue this discussion another time,” the Headmaster concluded.

“Great! I could do with some sleep.” Duo yawned loudly, but Heero noticed his subtle glance towards Trowa.

“Thank you, sir,” Quatre said to Dumbledore.

Milliardo led them all out through the same door that Dumbledore had exited through. “The House Elves should have arranged some refreshment for you in your rooms. The password to both paintings is ‘Yellow Halo’. You can change it once the inhabitants of the paintings hear the preset one.”

“Yellow Halo?” asked Trowa with a smirk. 

“Hey, I didn’t set it,” the man said with a shrug.


	16. Chapter 16

Wufei found his own way down to the Great Hall the next morning with a moderate measure eof difficulty. He took his time to watch the paintings on the walls. They spoke to him as he walked and one painting of a teenaged girl followed him until she was dragged away by an old woman. Most of them were very polite and eager to point him in the right direction.

Once he entered the Great Hall, Wufei noted the four house tables, easily telling them apart thanks to all he’d seen and heard. Over at what he guessed was the Slytherin table sat the blond boy he and Harry had run into in the corridors. He was scowling at one of his house mates and looked every bit the slimy bastard he had proved to be last night. 

Dragging his thoughts from the boy, Wufei let his eyes drift up towards the ceiling. As he watched, a small bird flew overhead. He made his way to the Gryffindor table, from where Harry was waving to him. The wizard was seated across from Hermione and Ginny who, Wufei was pleased to note, were sitting close together with their thighs touching.

Waving back, he grinned and had almost reached them when his eyes settled upon the staff table at the head of the Hall. Suddenly, he froze; eyes wide in shock to see who was staring back at him.

After a long moment, Wufei’s eyes narrowed, his mouth snapped closed audibly, and he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall.

In his wake followed a murmur of confused whispers from the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws who had witnessed his odd behaviour

*

There had been a lot of speculation over the four new arrivals at the staff table that morning. Ron had claimed that they were student teachers or perhaps Enquirers from the Ministry but Hermione had pointed out that they were far too young.

Harry agreed, but there was something there that nagged at him. Something was oddly familiar about those boys. A forced maturity born of hardships beyond their age. They reminded him of himself; and of Wufei.

As he ate, Harry kept glancing up at the four ‘boys’ from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help feeling that something was off. Whenever he tried to ignore them, he got this uncanny feeling that at least one pair of eyes was trained on him.

His peripheral vision told him otherwise, though. Whenever his paranoia got a hold of him and he tried to catch them out, they seemed to be happily chatting or eating as they had been the last time he checked. Well, all except for the dark haired one. He mostly just glared at the bacon and eggs in front of him or the braided boy to his left.

Finally, Harry noticed Wufei enter the Great Hall and felt himself relax a bit. He waved, signalling to the Gryffindor table.

The unease returned, however, when his boyfriend suddenly stopped mid step and then walked straight back out. Harry was just about to get up and follow him when Ginny grabbed his arm and pointed to the dark haired stranger who was following briskly after Wufei.

Harry frowned but just as he pulled out of Ginny’s grasp to pursue the two boys, he was intercepted by Mr. Peacecraft.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. Mr. Lupin was telling me an interesting story about your previous year. He mentioned a club you ran called the D.A.” Harry had to physically hold back himeslf from sneering at the man. He wanted to know what was going on but he couldn’t just brush the professor off.

“Uh, yes, sir,” he answered, hoping that if he kept his answers short and simple, he might get away quickly.

“I’ve been quite impressed by the knowledge of certain students who I believe were a part of this group. It would seem that it was quite a successful venture and I’d like to look into continuing it after the holiday break,” Mr. Peacecraft seemed to be leading Harry as far away from the large entrance doors as possible and the young wizard was beginning to get quite anxious. “Of course, there would be teacher supervision this time, but if you’d like to continue running the sessions, I would see no problems.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded quickly and glanced towards the doors.

“Very well, I’ll make some arrangements with the headmaster and we’ll meet to discuss this at a later date.” Finally, the teacher let Harry go and returned to the head table.

Immediately, Harry made a beeline for the Entrance Hall. He almost growled with frustration to see that neither Wufei nor the stranger was anywhere in sight. His curiosity and paranoia had hit full strength. He had a bad feeling about this. He really hadn’t liked the expression on the stranger’s face as he’d followed Wufei out of the Hall. 

Reluctantly, Harry continued on to Gryffindor Tower. As much as he’d like to look for Wufei, he’d probably be late for potions and Harry would never find his boyfriend if he was murdered by Snape first.

*

Duo and Quatre were chatting animatedly, with Trowa occasionally chipping something into the conversation, but all of them had noticed Heero’s silence. Although he wasn’t known for being talkative, he was usually perfectly happy to at least scold Duo every now and then.

Heero hadn’t said a word all morning, though. Nor had he touched his food. It seemed to Trowa as though he was waiting for something, but the brunet couldn’t imagine what. He could see that Heero’s eyes occasionally flicked over to their charge. Trowa had been watching the boy, too. As, he was sure, had Duo and Quatre.

Harry Potter was identifiable by several significant physical attributes. The first of these was the odd lightning shaped scar on his forehead. This was usually covered by the second attribute, his perpetually messy dark hair. The third marker was his eyes. They were a deep emerald green, even brighter than Trowa’s own.

From where he sat, Harry occasionally turned his head a little, talking with a redheaded boy next to him and casting a brief glimpse up towards the four operatives. He obviously wasn’t oblivious; he knew he was being watched. 

Trowa found that he admired that in the boy. Just from the stories he’d heard and his observations that morning, he had begun to develop a certain respect for Harry. Respect born of understanding.

Harry had been through a lot, but although he was more aware than those around him, he had managed to hold onto his innocence. He almost seemed like a normal teenager, blending in with those around him. The only things that claimed otherwise were the scar on his forehead and the faint hint of pain in his eyes that told of something darker deep within.

*

Trowa had been silent for a while and Duo nudged his leg under the table. His lover covered well and the only hint that he had been startled from his thoughts was the slight stiffening in his back and rising of his eyebrows.

Duo grinned and received a warm smile in return. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking about the mission,” Trowa answered, barely above a whisper. “It’s a lot to take in.” There was the barest hint of uncertainty in Trowa’s voice and Duo frowned at him, urging him to continue. “It’s just that these kids, they live in a world hidden from public sight; a place that should be safe. Yet, a shadow hangs over them all and they still continue as though everything is normal. Well, as normal as I suppose it gets around here, anyway.”

From the other side of Duo came a grunt, causing the other three boys to look over at Heero. After a moment, they saw what had caught his attention and Duo gasped 

“It can’t be,” he said with no little amazement.

“Wufei.” Was Heero’s curt statement.

Suddenly, the Chinese boy stopped in his tracks. Apparently he’d noticed them.

Duo lifted his arm to wave but it was grabbed by Heero who stood abruptly. “Stay here,” he ordered, and headed out after Wufei who had already left the Hall.

Trowa raised an eyebrow at Duo who just shrugged, then frowned at Quatre who had gone slightly pale.

“He wouldn’t, would he?” the blond pleaded quietly, turning shining blue eyes on Duo and Trowa.

Neither boy answered but instead became very interested in their breakfast until a voice behind them broke the short silence.

“Don’t worry,” Milliardo said in passing. “Things have a way of turning out around here.” The wizard inclined his head towards the middle of the table where Albus Dumbledore sat, a smile twisting the corners of his mouth and light crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

*

Wufei paused for a moment outside of the Great Hall. He wasn’t sure what to do. Suddenly, in that moment when he had laid eyes on the Head Table, he’d felt as if his whole life had been invaded.

What were they doing here? Were they here for him? Had he been careless and, despite his arrogance, left a trail for them to follow? Would they kill him? If so, why were they sitting around eating breakfast? Wouldn’t they try to assassinate him from the shadows?

Casting a nervous glance behind him, Wufei made up his mind and headed for the Gryffindor Tower. Just as he reached the staircase landing, he heard an echo of footsteps from the entrance to the hall.

Even with all of his training, he had grown lax here in the wizarding world and failed to resist turning to see if he was being followed. “Damn,” he whispered, as Heero’s eyes landed on him and the Japanese boy began to follow.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his mind, Wufei ducked into a side passage Harry had told him about. It lead in a round-a-bout way to the Tower. He was more likely to lose someone this way.

Wufei was glad that he had committed as much as he could to memory. This place was a Labyrinth of passages and secrets, which, thanks to the Marauder’s Map, Harry and his friends knew well.

Part in a rope tapestry, up two flights of stairs, down a hallway, duck into a thin alcove on the right, down that passage, turn to the left…

Finally, he caught sight of the suit of armour and the portrait of the Fat Lady that marked Gryffindor Tower. Breathing a sigh of relief, Wufei tapped her on the nose to wake her from a light doze. “Zucchini,” he whispered, and then went rigid as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Relax. Where can we talk?” The hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly and then backed off.

“Follow me,” Wufei answered, and ducked through the opening portrait hole, unwilling to think about the impending confrontation that was going to occur once they were away from private eyes. Perhaps there would be none. After all, privacy and shadows went together well.

Gathering his wits, Wufei analysed the situation. Heero had managed to follow him all the way to the Tower. Of course he had, it was Heero. Now he had no choice but to lead his would-be assassin away from the public into a potentially life threatening situation. No, that wasn’t quite true. Just being near the boy was life threatening. Being near any of them was. Even Wufei himself, no matter how he tried to make-believe he was a different person.

They both crawled through the opening and into the common room. Wufei was glad that no one was about and made straight for the boy’s staircase. They were past the fifth year dorms and almost home free when another turn had him walking straight into Harry.

*

There was a moment of confusion when Wufei turned the corner and knocked into somebody. Heero didn’t have enough warning to stop, but instead continued forward and almost lost his own balance as he knocked Wufei and the other boy to the floor.

“’Fei?” the boy asked from the floor. “There you are. I was wondering where you’d gotten to. You disappeared so fast at breakfast, and-” Apparently, he’d just noticed Heero and stopped mid-sentence. He let himself be pulled up by Wufei, who was already standing. “You were at the Head Table this morning,” he said accusingly.

Heero nodded, but said nothing else until it became clear that both of the others weren’t planning to either. “You’re Harry Potter.”

“Yes,” the boy replied softly. “And you are?”

“I am none of your concern,” Heero told him harshly. He didn’t want to talk to the target. There was every chance that the mission would fail. No use in getting close to someone who may be doomed to die. Besides, in less than a week, he would be gone, and it would be best if only those he worked with knew enough about him to notice he was missing. He turned to Wufei. “I don’t have all day.”

The ex-operative looked at him uneasily and then even more so at Harry. He licked his lips once and then his eyes went back to Heero. “Pass the next two doors and then you’ll find mine. I’ll be up in a moment.” Heero raised an eyebrow at him, but obviously Wufei knew what he was thinking. “I’ll be there.”

“Very well,” Heero muttered and continued past them, up the stairs.

*

Harry frowned. What was all this about, and who was that guy? He watched the exchange between the two of them and couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Especially when he saw how nervous his boyfriend seemed to be.

Once he thought the stranger was out of earshot, he shifted his attention. “’Fei?” he asked quietly. “What’s going on?”

There was a lengthy pause and Wufei’s eyes travelled up the steps before returning to Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. I can’t explain. I-I don’t want to get you involved.”

There was fear in his eyes, but Harry couldn’t tell what he was afraid of. He knew his own fears, though. What if that stranger was an ex-lover? What if he wanted Wufei back? What if-

“Harry?” The voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

Wufei watched him for a moment. He seemed to be debating what he was going to say, but then he turned his face away. “You should go to class. Snape will be angry if you’re late.” Then, he began to follow the stranger up the stairs.

“Wufei!” Harry called after him. “’Fei, wait!”

*

Wufei closed his eyes. He knew what Harry must be thinking; could see the hurt in his face. But he didn’t want to tell him. Not now, not ever. He’d finally found a peaceful place where he could live his life. The terrible things he’d done in the name of justice were only a memory here. 

Now, G.U.N.D.A.M had found its way back into his life, and he didn’t want it to tangle with the purity he’d found. He didn’t want Harry to know. He didn’t want to acknowledge the hand on his wrist, the pleading eyes. He didn’t want them to belong to Harry, begging him to open up, to tell him that Heero wasn’t an ex-fling, or more importantly, a current one. To tell him that Wufei wasn’t going to be lost to him.

He couldn’t. Wufei knew that Heero was likely here to execute him, and he didn’t know if he could escape this time. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Harry again.

With that realization, he looked down at the boy before him. He couldn’t leave it at that. 

Wufei reached out and pulled Harry into his embrace. Holding him against his chest, he leaned forward and stole Harry’s lips in a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered, and then continued up the stairs to the room he borrowed, leaving Harry shell-shocked and praying that the boy wouldn’t follow.

*

Harry stood in place, his lips still tingling from the kiss. He heard Wufei make his way up the stairs, and then the click of the door above. The silence that went with that click was dreadful. There should have been some noise coming from the common room or a dormitory on the way, but Harry could hear none of it.

What was wrong with him? He had to get to Potions or he’d be late. So, why was he still standing in the middle of a stairway, waiting for Wufei to come back down and tell him what was going on?

Wufei had said he loved him and there was no doubt that he meant it. So, what was Harry’s problem? Why couldn’t he move?

He trusted Wufei, didn’t he? More than that, he loved him. Trust was a part of love. Wasn’t it? 

He couldn’t make up his mind. He wanted to go up to Wufei’s room, to go in, or listen at the door. But on the other hand, to do so would be to prove that he didn’t trust Wufei, and if he didn’t trust him, then how could he love him?

Still, Harry had come to no decision. Time was passing him by, and the books he carried grew heavier the longer he held them. He couldn’t just stand there forever; he was already late for Potions. 

Slowly, as if afraid that Harry would be angry at their decision, his feet turned and began to walk back down the staircase. His mind didn’t catch up with him until he was halfway to the dungeons. It was as if he’d stopped thinking. It felt like his brain had shut down.

Then, the thoughts began to catch up. Of course he was doing the right thing. Whatever was going on, Wufei loved him. He wouldn’t hurt Harry, and Harry wouldn’t betray that by not believing in him. Besides, Snape would have his head if he skipped Potions.

Finally, it occurred to him. Potions… Snape… He was late; REALLY late. There was no way he could talk himself out of this one.

Harry broke into a run, his footfalls echoing off of the stone passages in the dungeons all the way to his classroom.

*

Thankfully, no footsteps had followed Wufei by the time he reached his quarters. Although, that small relief died upon birthing as he edged the door open.

Wufei wasn’t sure what to do. He knew that Heero must be here to kill him. Why else would he be at Hogwarts? But he couldn’t quite believe that it would happen. Despite his own social reluctance, he had formed a bond with all of the other operatives. They knew that they would always watch each other’s backs. It was an unspoken agreement. Although, Wufei was no longer a part of that, by his own choice.

Inside, Heero stood by the window, staring out onto the grounds, which were growing colder by the day, inviting the crisp chill of winter. That same chill seemed to settle in the air now, leaving Wufei with a sense of unexplained dread. “Yuy, you wanted to talk?”

The Japanese boy let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the wall beside the glass panes. His eyes were reduced to slits, but no doubt he still had full view of what he found important to observe. “I do. It seems that G.U.N.D.A.M’s new assignment has brought us to cross paths once more.”

“New assignment?” hissed Wufei. “Here?”

Ignoring the interruption, Heero continued, no longer feigning a relaxed vigilance. “I have orders to terminate you, agent 05. However, if you cooperate, that may not be necessary.”

“No games, Heero. I promised that I would never again lower myself to little more than a murderer. You know that,” Wufei growled acidly.

“Not even for your precious Harry Potter?”

Wufei’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and his face transformed into a scowl that would terrify most men. “What does Harry have to do with this?”

“Surely you know that he is in danger.” At the low rumbled that issued from Wufei’s chest, Heero raised a hand to stall him. “Not from us, but from a certain dark wizard.” The expression that passed over Heero’s face at the last two words was almost comical. It appeared that he was having trouble accepting this task as wholeheartedly as he claimed. “And,” he added. ”Treize Khushrenada.”

“Khushrenada? But he’s a Muggle! What would he –“

“The Minister has discovered this world and allied himself with a powerful force, which is currently gaining ground rapidly. The charge, Potter, is in grave danger, and with him lies the fates of both the wizarding world and our own,” Heero reported smoothly.

The angry furore left Wufei, and he sat heavily on his bed. “Your world. This is my home now,” he claimed, without much thought. Running a hand over his face, he sighed in defeat. “I’ll never escape it. I’m doomed to a life of servitude to Chu Jung.” [1] Taking a deep breath as his eyes fluttered closed and then open once more, Wufei looked up tiredly. “You want me to re-join you.”

“We could use your skills, yes. Will you do it?” There seemed to be an almost pleading note in Heero’s voice, despite his stoic cover.

“I will. For Harry’s sake,” Wufei replied.

Heero nodded and the tension drained from him perceptibly. “We will meet later in the day to re-assign mission posts.” 

As his old comrade made to leave, Wufei realized that he was to survive this encounter, at least. He smirked minutely and shook his head. “It’s been quite a while, Yuy, and this is all the greeting I get? You haven’t changed in the least.”

Pausing with his hand on the door handle, Heero answered with a half grin of his own. “You’d prefer I greeted you with a bullet?”

“Well, it would save time. Although I’d be interested to see if a gun even worked in the wizarding world,” the Chinese boy answered.

“What? What do you mean?” Heero questioned suspiciously, snapping around.

“No one told you? Technology doesn’t work here. Your laptop will be completely useless, but I don’t know about guns. They don’t run on electricity or battery after all,” Wufei mused.

“So, they might still work, then. We’ll have to run some tests if that’s the case. If guns don’t work, we’ll be at a disadvantage, unless we can lure the target away from the wizarding world.” Heero’s eyes were narrowed in thought until he abruptly turned and opened the door. “I’ll see you later,” he called as he made his way back down into the common room.

Wufei stared after him a moment before getting up and closing the door. He leaned against it as the conversation began to replay in his mind, slowly allowing everything to sink in.

He’d agreed to re-join the cause that had haunted his dreams whenever he didn’t spend them with Harry. So many nights had seen vivid stains of crimson blood painted behind his eyelids. Worse still were the ingrained images of lifeless eyes, lips parted to release a final breath, hands outstretched and pleading for help.

A shudder shook Wufei’s slender frame. He’d been so close to leaving all of that behind. With Harry, he’d found peace and the first true happiness that he could remember…

And that was why he had to protect him. He owed so much to the sweet, loving soul who had saved his own. The least he could do was protect his love. Yet, doing so meant he would have to confess to the shame his life had encompassed.

He was afraid that if Harry knew of his past and apparent future, he’d lose the boy permanently. And yet, if he didn’t confess, then all may be lost anyway. Who knew what Harry thought of the exchange on the stairway? It was certainly incriminating.

Wufei’s imagination began to spin visions of Harry in tears, Harry angry, Harry jealous. Ignoring rational thought, Wufei decided to talk to his love now, before he lost his nerve. Knowing that if he hesitated, he would never again have the courage, he ran immediately from the room, heading straight for the Potions dungeon.

[1] Chu Jung: Chinese god of Fire Execution. Embodies justice, revenge, death and the element of fire.

*

Harry skidded to a halt, aware of the racket he’d made as he pounded down the stone steps. Every eye in the class was on him, including the dark obsidian pair of Snape’s.

A malicious grin twisted the Potions Master’s face, and his eyes gleamed with amusement and pleasure. “You’re late, Mr. Potter,” he said slowly and softly.

“I, I know, sir. I-“

“What excuse could you possibly expect to get away with, boy? I’m afraid you’ve done your lot in this time.” The professor was enjoying this moment far too much, and Harry felt a deep dread rise in him.

It seemed an eternity that he stood before the class, desperate for guidance. “S-sir, I-“

“S-sir, what, Mr. Potter? If you don’t mind, you’re disrupting my class. Go on, get out.” Snape turned back to the students, still smirking like he’d just pulled one over on a Gringotts Goblin.

“Please, sir-“

“Harry!”

Harry jumped as Wufei’s voice rang out down the stone passageway. He turned to see his boyfriend running towards him, out of breath, and he promptly forgot that he was in a very precarious situation at that point in time.

“’Fei? What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the uncharacteristic display of emotions on his love’s face.

“I need to talk to you. Now,” Wufei stated emphatically.

A grinding cough drew Harry’s attention back to the Potions Master. “Just a minute!” Harry yelled. A split second later, a look of horror crossed his features and he turned slowly on his heel, afraid to see what reaction his distinct lack of respect had caused.

And well he should have been afraid. After a scant moment of shock, Snape became furious. His eyes narrowed and his cheek twitched noticeably.

“Uh, I mean-“

“Out. Now.” Snape swept out from behind his desk and exited the room, slamming the heavy door behind him. “Mr. Potter. I have put up with your stupidity for several years, and this is finally the end. Today, I will be rid of your presence in my class. First, you arrive not only late, but almost halfway through the class. Second, you disobey my direct orders to leave. And, third,” and the malicious grin returned at this point, “You abandon all show of manners and brains and prove your insolence in front of a class of witnesses. Thank you, Mr. Potter, for finally leaping boldly over what thin boundaries remain and giving me acceptable reason to punish you to kingdom come. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a class to instruct.”

Harry was pale and almost trembling by the time the Potions Master returned to the classroom, leaving the corridor to feel colder than it had done even a moment before.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Lemon*

“Harry?” Hesitantly, Wufei approached the shocked boy.

“’Fei?” Harry rasped with a distinctly dry throat. “What just happened?”

“I think you were kicked out of Potions,” Wufei replied with a wince, knowing that this was his fault.

“I thought so.” Harry sagged, bereft of the tension which had kept him on his feet throughout the morning so far since breakfast.

Immediately Wufei was at his side, embracing him; holding him upright. “Can he do that?”

“He’s the Potions Master. Short of defying orders from Dumbledore, he can do what he wants,” Harry answered.

He sounded so tired, so defeated. “Is it really so bad?” Wufei tried to joke. “At least you won’t be stuck in a class with that bastard.”

“Without Advanced Potions I’m not eligible to become an auror.” Harry’s arms came up to circle Wufei’s waist and he laid his head against his boyfriend’s chest. “It was the only thing I really contemplated as a career.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. This is entirely my fault. You were late because of me. If I hadn’t-“

“Shhh, don’t be silly. I was late because I was too stupid to trust you immediately, and I was on thin ice anyway. Snape’s been dying to get rid of me since year one. The only reason I got this far is because Dumbledore has always stood up for me. But I don’t think there’s anything he can do this time. Oh well, I guess that’s it, then. Well, come on. There’s still a while before my next class and I want to relax for a bit, first.” Pulling away, Harry began to walk back down the corridor and Wufei followed him. 

“Harry, are you okay?” The Boy Who Lived was very pale, and for all his flippant nature, it seemed as though he was about to shatter. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“Sure, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. My headache didn’t go away for a while last night,” he replied a little too brightly.

They went up to Wufei’s room and Harry went and sat down on the bed, obviously trying not to look too eager to lay down.

Wufei made it easier for him and lay down, patting the mattress beside him. Gratefully, Harry obliged. His eyes closed a moment after hitting the mattress, but he wasn’t asleep.

“You needed to talk to me, ‘Fei?” he asked.

Suddenly, Wufei was reminded of the reason he had run down to the dungeons in the first place. “It can wait,” he whispered. He couldn’t bring himself to make Harry’s morning any worse than it had gotten so far.

“No, you were upset about something,” Harry persisted, opening his eyes. “You’re not telling me something.”

“Not now. You’re tired and still healing. It can wait.” He ran a hand through Harry’s hair and then brought it down to rest on his love’s back.

“Wufei, I’m fine. If anything, I’m frustrated. I want to know what’s going on, who those guys are, and what you aren’t telling me,” Harry told him.

Sitting up, Wufei averted his face. He couldn’t bear to look into Harry’s honest eyes and see the hurt there. “I… I can’t. Harry, if I told you… I-” He broke off, terrified of the truth, and trembling as Harry’s arms encircled his body.

“I knew it the first time I saw you,” Harry whispered into Wufei’s ear, his arms resting comfortably around a slender waist. “You’re just like me. Aged before your time. Forced to fight battles that one so young should never so much as hear of. You can tell me anything, ‘Fei. I love you and it would take so much more than an ugly past to scare me away, if anything could at all.”

Despite himself, a tear rolled down Wufei’s cheek. He made no effort to brush it away, but rather, turned to face Harry. More tears fell to see the complete openness in his boyfriend’s face and Wufei buried his face against Harry’s shoulder.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he said quietly, drawing back against his better judgment to access the emerald gaze of the one who held him.

“No, I don’t. Even so, I know that it won’t matter. Whatever you’ve done, you’re still the same ‘Fei that I love.” Harry smiled sweetly, running a thumb over Wufei’s lower lip. “I thought that, after Sirius, I would never love anyone again. I was wrong. Very wrong.”

“Harry.” Wufei took Harry’s hands in his own and pressed them against his cheek, finally understanding just how serious his love really was. “I’m sorry I never told you sooner. I was afraid you’d never love someone like me; like I was, and like I will be.”

“Tell me?” Harry pleaded softly.

For the next hour, the boys sat in each other’s embrace as Wufei explained his life as an agent of G.U.N.D.A.M He went on to tell of the other operatives: Duo, Heero, Quatre, and Trowa; then, his own apparent escape from the underground organization which had failed that morning in the Great Hall. After that, he repeated what Heero had told him earlier.

Harry listened quietly, never interrupting or asking too many questions. Ashamed as he was, Wufei took that as a bad sign and tried to shrink away several times, only to be thwarted by Harry’s still loving arms around his body. 

When he finished, Wufei found himself snuggled comfortably against his love’s neck. He could feel the light pulse beating against his eyelashes. “Still love me?” he asked a little apprehensively, even though he knew he should have more faith.

“More than ever,” Harry told him, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen over Wufei’s eye. “I’m proud of you for so many things.”

“And the others?” Wufei prompted. “The killing, the hate… What of them?”

“I don’t care.” After saying this, Harry turned his gaze to stare fixedly at the floor. “Perhaps I’m the one who should make a confession… I’m not as innocent and noble as everyone seems to think. I don’t care that you’ve killed people. In fact, if I had it my way, I would have killed every one of those Death Eaters that have crossed my path. And I want to. I hate them so much more than anyone can understand. It’s no justified anger in search of righteous revenge. I hate them so much that it hurts. Even Snape and his stupid grin. What I wouldn’t give to wipe it off of his face.” Harry laughed bitterly and a tear drop splashed onto Wufei’s cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a lark? Gryffindor’s Golden Boy, Harry Potter, locked away in Azkaban Prison for mass murder.”

Wufei knew he should be disturbed. He knew that he had always seen Harry as that pure being that the wizarding world idolized, but he liked this Harry even better. This Harry understood him. This Harry would never judge him for his crimes. This Harry was human.

*

Harry felt cold. The hatred filled him once more; not burning as people always described, but cold and icy, almost to the point of numbing. Lucius Malfoy’s face sneered down at him, Snape’s twisted grin laughed darkly, Voldemort’s evil hiss of a chuckle grated against the sheet of ice that frosted around him.

Then, all of a sudden, warmth exploded on his neck, causing Harry to moan as the feeling spread, bringing him back to his senses. Automatically, his hand came up to grasp Wufei’s silky hair as the Muggle sucked gently on Harry’s pulse point.

“’Fei, wha-?“

Harry’s question was smothered in a kiss. The warmth grew deeper as Wufei’s tongue pressed into his mouth to tangle with his own. The heat seemed to be searching for his very core.

He groaned as his love pressed him back onto the bed, not releasing the kiss, even as they both lowered to the mattress. Hands ran up his arms, sending tingles through the over sensitized skin.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re perfect, Harry?” Wufei asked him, before he’d even registered the loss of those sweet lips.

“No, but I could get used to it.” Leaning up to reclaim the kiss, Harry twisted to the side, tipping them both over and landing himself on top.

Wufei’s stunned look amused him for a moment but the expression soon shifted into one of passion. Harry placed several neat kisses along a well-formed jaw line even as he stripped off the cloth that separated him from Wufei’s gorgeous chest.

Once that was out of the way, Harry bent over a dark brown nipple, flicking his tongue over it lightly. He was encouraged by Wufei’s gasp as he arched up for more. What a sight that made. Taking the nipple into his mouth, Harry sucked on it, alternating the pressure as he felt it harden to his ministrations. 

Long fingers had tangled into his messy hair, and Harry felt so in control at that moment. Yet, even as he licked a trail over to the nub that he’d neglected, he felt lost. This was more contact than he’d ever had with another human being. He felt exposed and more vulnerable than he’d ever been. This was new territory, terrifying and yet enticing all at once.

In spite of his fears, Harry’s continued to lick and suck at the second dusky nipple. He knew the effect he was having on Wufei, and even as he doubted himself, that gave him confidence. Soon, his own shirt was gone, and Wufei’s hands roamed over his flesh, just as his own tongue skimmed over golden-brown skin.

“H--arr--y,” Wufei ground out through a groan. His hands applied subtle pressure at the base of Harry’s neck, urging him to halt his task and re-join his lover’s side.

“What is it, ‘Fei?” Harry asked, drawing one small earlobe between his teeth. 

“You should really stop doing that, you know,” gasped Wufei, forcing his eyes open.

“Am I hurting you?” Harry asked contritely, sitting up with a guilty look.

“No, of course not.” Wufei laughed. “Not at all. I just…” He trailed off, the sentence fading into a blush.

This caused Harry to blush in sympathy and he suddenly felt the cold air around him, causing him to shiver. “I was moving too fast?”

“No! I mean, I’m more worried about you. Like I said before, you’re tired, and injured, and-“

“And head over heels in love with you,” Harry added softly.

There was a long pause as they both watched each other, then Wufei pulled his love close. “I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I want to be with you, ‘Fei. I’m ready and willing; it’s just that I’ve never been so intimate with anyone.” This caused Harry’s blush to resurface, burning brighter than before.

Leaning his forehead against Harry’s, Wufei closed his eyes and took a steady breath. When he reopened them, he smiled and brushed their lips together in imitation of a kiss. “Make love to me, Harry?”

Harry gasped at the unexpected question. He’d never imagined that Wufei would want to be taken. “I-I can’t. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never-“

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’ll guide you,” Wufei whispered. 

Biting his lip, Harry nodded slowly. He knew he was ready for this but he was still scared. He trusted that Wufei knew what he was doing and was sure of what he wanted, but… “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”

Wufei shook his head, looking directly into Harry’s eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to enjoy your first time, in every way,” he added.

Smiling in understanding, Harry initiated a deep kiss as he leaned over Wufei, pushing them both down onto the bed. Going by instinct, he pressed his growing hardness against Wufei’s thigh, adjusting until he felt himself line up with an answering erection. As they rubbed against each other, Wufei arched off the bed, throwing his head back and exposing his neck.

Lightly biting the smooth, dark skin, Harry reached down to undo Wufei’s jeans button with one hand, whilst supporting himself with the other. He sucked on the slight abrasion, bringing the blood to the surface, and then bit the spot again.

He pulled away to strip off Wufei’s pants and took a moment to laugh at the cute pout and gurgle that displayed his lover’s disappointment with the move. Quickly, Harry dispatched of his robe and made to rectify the situation. 

Starting with the arch of one adorably small foot, he place tiny kisses all the way up Wufei’s left leg, sparing a lick for the edge of the white briefs, and then continued up to trail his tongue around the puckered skin of Wufei’s ‘outtie’ belly button.

“Quit playing with me,” ‘Fei growled in frustration.

“Awww, but the Dursleys never let me have a toy. I have years to make up for,” Harry answered cheekily.

“Oh, no, you don’t. If you don’t start preparing me, right now, this toy is going to break.” That set Harry grinning and he crawled up so that their bodies were almost even.

“Okay, okay, but this is the part where I need an instruction manual,” he whispered into Wufei’s ear.

As his love rolled over to grab something from beside the bed, Harry took the opportunity to pull out the tie which bound back black hair, letting it fall loose. “Hey! No need to be sneaky!” But ‘Fei was grinning as he handed over a jar of moisturizing cream.

“Moisturizing cream?” Harry asked. “So that’s the secret to your complexion, huh?”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a guy using moisturizer.” Then, Wufei winked. “Besides, its useful in a lot of ways.”

Snorting, Harry opened the lid and scooped some of the cream onto his fingers. “I’ll bet.”

Wufei had already rid himself of his briefs and his grin chased away any lingering doubts that Harry might have had. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Okay,” Harry sat up on his knees between Wufei’s spread legs, suddenly embarrassed. He felt his cheeks flush once more, and made a point of looking candidly at the task at hand. Of course, it didn’t help that this happened to be sticking his fingers inside another guy’s arse.

Awkwardly, he placed the tip of his finger against Wufei’s entrance, teasing slightly before penetrating the outer ring. Stilling his urge to pull back, Harry pushed his finger deeper as Wufei instructed, although it seemed as though it wasn’t supposed to fit. How this small hole was supposed to take anything larger was beyond him.

Once again, his doubts fled as Wufei sighed and relaxed. It became much easier to slide his finger inside, and after a moment, Harry added another. Scissoring them, he felt his cheeks grow even warmer, although part of that was due to the pressure straining inside his boxers.

Chancing a look up, Harry’s eyes lifted to see what reaction he was causing. That was a mistake. Wufei’s eyes were closed, and he wore such a pure and beautiful smile even as his erection swelled and he wriggled happily. Moaning with longing, Harry inserted his third finger and leaned forward, licking the weeping head that tempted him.

“Enough! I’m ready. Really, really ready. Would you please just take me already?” That desperate plea instigated in Harry a war between laughter and compliance. Fortunately, he wasn’t in a humorous mood.

“Are you sure?” he asked, even as he stripped off the rest of his own clothing.

“Absolutely freaking positive. Now hurry up!” Wufei moaned, spreading his legs even further and lifting up onto his elbows. 

“Okay, okay.” Grinning from ear to ear, and quite impatient himself, Harry drew in close and pressed his lips to ‘Fei’s softly. “I love you,” he whispered, and then reached down to guide himself into the right spot.

Pressing forward, Harry once more had a moment of insecurity until he felt Wufei’s body shiver once beneath him and then completely unwind. Biting his lip against the tight pleasure, he waited until he was halfway inside to take a breath, then paused, pulled back a little, and pushed in once more.

Taken in to the hilt, Harry found himself unable to move, captivated by the intimacy of this precious moment. His eyes were locked inside deep onyx depths, and he felt as though the universe had shifted, leaving only the two of them amidst a yawning eternity.

Then, a persistent throbbing insisted that the moment was over, and need took over once more.  
Drawing back, Harry made his first slow thrust, still staring into Wufei’s eyes. He groaned, having never felt anything like this before. Again, he pulled out and then plunged back in, slowly building into a ragged rhythm.

Both boys were breathing heavily, neither saying a word, nor needing to. Their bodies slid against each other, slick with sweat, Wufei’s hardness trapped between them. The pace grew more urgent, the need more frantic. Strong arms gripped Harry’s hips, pulling him deeper, crescent nails biting into his skin.

Mentally, Harry called his lover’s name in a chant as he thrust deeper, harder, and faster. Realizing that his eyes had fallen closed, he opened them to be greeted by a sight that propelled him over the edge; Wufei’s hair was splayed against the pillow, his head thrown back, eyes tightly shut, and his mouth wide open in a silent cry. Gripped in awe, Harry screamed “’Fei!” as he came, spilling his seed into the body of this glorious boy who had stolen his heart.

A short moment later, Wufei’s eyes snapped open and he breathed “Harry!” in a low growl. A deep spasm wracked his body, causing his nails to sink deeper into his lover’s flesh as he, too, tumbled into ecstasy.


	18. Chapter 18

Watching the whole exchange from her front table, Hermione was frozen in shock up to and including the interval where professor Snape exited the room, closing the door behind him. When the Potions Master came back inside, there was an unidentifiable smugness throughout his angry demeanour.

Biting her lip, Hermione lowered her eyes, wondering what had happened. Snape’s curt announcement caught her off guard.

“That will be the last we see of Mr. Potter in this class.”

Could Harry have been expelled? As the panic began to settle in, reason took over. Of course not. Snape was only head of Slytherin House. He didn’t have the authority to expel Harry himself. Then he must have finally kicked Harry out of Potions. For good?

“Miss Granger!” Hermione jumped and knocked over a bottle of Gnarish Acid which proceeded to burn a hole through the wooden table. 

“You stupid girl!” Snape flicked his wand and the acid disappeared, but the hole remained. “You will report to me for detention every afternoon this week!”

Irrationally, tears began to well in Hermione’s eyes and a lump formed in her throat. “But, sir,” she began weakly, until those two words threatened to make the tears spill over.

This sudden turn of weakness had come from nowhere. The stress must have finally caught up with her. After everything that had happened between Lupin’s attempted suicide and Harry’s injury, Hermione had been ready to break down. She thought she’d finally come to some peace with Ginny, but now with the events of the potions class and Snape’s full rage turned on her, the dam broke.

The first sob tore past her throat, causing her whole body to contract as her head fell into her arms. Hermione’s rational mind kept telling her that she was crying in front of Slytherins and the school’s most hated professor, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Snape’s furious orders to act her age didn’t even reach her mind as the tears continued to soak through her sleeves. Nor did Parvati’s uncertain attempts to calm her down.

Dimly, she registered being lifted and burrowing her face into somebody’s shoulder, heedless of who the person was. The echo of raucous laughter rang behind her, followed by a sharp bellow which cut the sound off immediately. That was the last she remembered aside from being placed on something soft, and choking on some sort of potion. The crying didn’t cease until the dreamless sleep potion rendered her unconscious.

*

The rest of the castle was oblivious of their top student’s breakdown until the first lunch break when rumors began to circulate from Slytherin students and a buzz of worry spread throughout Gryffindor. Ginny Weasley was one of the first to find out, overhearing a conversation between Lavender and Parvati as she walked past them at the house table. No-one noticed her abrupt change of direction, especially not her brother Ron who was busy selecting his meal and hadn’t heard the news yet. That is, until Draco Malfoy waltzed over with intentions of rubbing salt into Gryffindor’s wounds.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the little weasel,” the blond taunted.

“What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” Ron snapped, with a piece of buttered toast halfway to his mouth.

“Just wondering why you haven’t rushed off to comfort your mudblood girlfriend yet,” Draco retorted, grinning smugly.

Jaw set, eyes narrowed, Ron rose to stand, one first clenched so tightly around his toast that a droplet of melted butter ran down his wrist. 

“Ron! He just wants to get a rise out of you. Don’t react,” Seamus yelled, grabbing at the boy’s shoulder but being pushed away.

“First of all, Hermione is not my girlfriend but I warned you what would happen if you ever called her a—THAT—again.” Raising his fist, Ron pulled back to land a punch squarely on Draco’s nose.

Having tensed up his whole body to throw into the punch, Ron was caught totally off balance when a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, holding it in place.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a smooth voice told him. “At least, not in front of so many people.”

The hand tightened and the mangled piece of toast dropped to the floor. Ron’s wrist opened reflexively. 

“Wha-? Oww! Hey, what are you doing?” Ron cried with a wince.

“I’m stopping you from making a big mistake, so stop making such a fuss, will you?” The mystery boy stepped into Ron’s line of sight.

He was one of the four strangers and two of the others were with him. Something about this boy really annoyed Ron. That stupid smirk got on his nerves, and what kind of guy had hair that long? And in a braid no less? It was worse than Bill’s.

“This is none of your business,” Ron hissed, looking to see who had been watching and then turning back to the newcomer. 

“Oh, I think you’ll find that in a roundabout kind of way, it is.” The boy held out his hand. “I’m Duo, nice to meet you.”

“You’re another Muggle, aren’t you?” Draco’s voice was practically dripping with contempt and reminded Ron that he was meant to be pummeling the Slytherin.

At that point, one of the other boys stepped forward. He was short and blond with a very sweet looking face. “Look, whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can sort this out without any immaturity. And, to answer your question, Mr. Malfoy, yes. We are Muggles.”

Malfoy sniffed, but apparently he saw that he was outnumbered in a situation that he wasn’t quite in control of. “Filthy Muggles,” he spat with a sneer, and walked off with the rest of his group in tow.

Ron wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. He knew that he was very angry and had somehow lost a subject to take it out on. What he didn’t know was who these guys were and what Malfoy had been talking about.

“Filthy? Does he have any idea of just how much time I spend in the shower washing this mop of hair?” the first boy asked as he watched the troop of Slytherins stalk off. 

Completely unexpectedly, the third boy with brown bangs and green eyes started laughing. Then, he stopped abruptly and cleared his throat when he noticed everyone watching him.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Ron asked finally. He decided to ignore the strangers and turned to Seamus. “What was he saying about Hermione?”

“You mean you haven’t heard? She’s in the hospital wing. People are saying that she had a nervous breakdown in Potions after Harry got kicked out.”

“Kicked out? And, what do you mean she had a nervous breakdown. She’s been much better lately, and-“

“She had that deep thinking face on and then Snape yelled at her. She jumped about a mile and knocked over some acid. Snape obviously wasn’t very happy and he gave her detention for the rest of the week. Then, she just started crying, and crying. Eventually, Snape gave Dean Permission to carry her up to the hospital wing,” Parvati explained with a flair for dramatic presentation that was reminiscent of Professor Trelawney.

“I’d better go and see her.” Ron was frowning worriedly. Hermione had always overworked herself, but after Lupin’s suicide attempt she’d shown that she was having some real trouble coping this year. Then, a couple of hours later, she’d been fine, back to normal. Apparently, that hadn’t lasted very long. “Before I go, tell me about Harry. Why did Snape kick him out?”

“He was really late.” Dean took over the story, now. “He ran in about halfway through class, and needless to say, Snape was pissed. He told Harry to get out, but then someone came running down saying he really needed to talk to Harry. Well, Harry asked him what was up and Snape tried to get his attention back. That’s when Harry turned around and snapped at him. At first, everyone was in shock, and then Harry turned around real slowly. Snape ordered them both out and went into the corridor. He shut the door behind him so we couldn’t hear a word, but I got a glimpse of Harry when Snape came back in and he looked like a bus had fallen on him.”

“Hey, um, this guy, was he Asian looking?” the first stranger asked before Ron could say a word.

“Yeah, why?” Dean asked.

“Longish black hair, right?”

Parvati giggled. “Ahuh. He was pretty cute.”

“Was it the guy who was sitting with Harry and the girls in the common room last night?” Lavender asked with a grin. At her friend’s nod, she giggled as well. “Oh yes, very cute.”

“Oh please.” Ron made a gagging sound and rolled his eyes. “If you girls are done, I’m gonna go check on Hermione.”

“We’ll go with you,” the blond stranger said quickly, and before he had a chance to comment, they ushered him out of the Hall.

As they made their way to the hospital wing, Ron finally stopped and turned around. “Listen, I don’t know who you guys are, but I’m pretty sure that you don’t even know Hermione so will you please just leave me alone?”

“Oh, yeah, that. We should probably explain,” said the first boy.

“Not here.” The one with green eyes pointed at the paintings. “For the moment, let’s just say that we’re here for Harry Potter’s protection, and since the rest of you are likely to get involved, his friends’ as well.”

Ron just growled in frustration and pushed open the door to the ward… Just in time to catch the kiss between Ginny and Hermione through a gap in the bed curtain.


	19. Chapter 19

“Oh, Madam Pomfrey, please let me see her. She’s like a sister to me. At least let me find out what’s wrong,” Ginny pleaded.

“Oh, very well, then. Honestly. You lot may as well just move in here. Miss Granger should wake up soon. I didn’t give her a dose strong enough to knock her out completely.” The matron ushered the young girl inside the cubicle and drew the curtains closed, holding a finger to her lips as she walked away.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny took the chair closest to the bedside. Her eyes raked over Hermione’s face. The sixth year didn’t look hurt or sick. In fact, she was sleeping peacefully and looked quite adorable. Well, except for the dried tear tracks on her cheeks.

Indeed, she wasn’t asleep long. Five minutes later, Hermione curled onto her side and apparently noticed that she was awake. Both eyes opened cautiously, blinking several times before they adjusted properly. “Ginny?” she whispered hoarsely, and then cleared her throat.

Nodding, Ginny took Hermione’s hand in her own. “I’m here.” This relationship was so new to them both, but Ginny didn’t feel awkward at all. She felt safe with Hermione. It just… felt right. “Are you all right?”

Hermione smiled, not with her usual cheerfulness, but it was a good start. “That’s a silly question.”

“You’re right. It really is.” Ginny smiled in return.

Suddenly, Hermione let out a little giggle.

“What?” Self-consciously, the redhead tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well?”

“Oh, it’s just that, at the Quidditch match, I was watching you. I couldn’t help thinking about what you’d said about Harry and Wufei. I had this strange notion of being your light. Of being there for you.” She laughed again, this time a little sadly. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

That simple statement shocked Ginny into silence. That had to be the single most caring thing anyone had ever said to her. Growing up in a family with six brothers had certainly made life very interesting. Of course, they all loved her a lot, but they never showed it. How strange that her brother’s friend was the first one to say anything so sweet to her. Well, Hermione was her girlfriend now, and she liked it that way.

Now it was Ginny’s turn to giggle. Funny, really, that she should think of herself as having a girlfriend. Perhaps growing up with a household of men had influenced her in ways that she’d never noticed. What an odd moment to realize that she truly did prefer girls to boys.

“Now, what are you laughing at?” Hermione asked with a mock frown.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking how strange it is,” Ginny answered.

“What’s strange?”

“You and me.” Having said that, Ginny’s cheeks began to mimic her hair.

“I don’t think that it’s strange at all,” murmured Hermione. She reached up to caress the younger girl’s cheek.

“You know what I mean,” Ginny whispered, holding Hermione’s hand to her face.

Shifting to sit on the bed, Ginny slid her arms around Hermione as the other girl sat up. She felt so comfortable like that. She could hold this girl all year and never feel as though she’d missed a thing. Yet, there was something more that she wanted to do.

Smiling to herself at this opportunity to look down at her taller girlfriend, Ginny leaned down until her lips met Hermione’s. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then, both girls parted their mouths, each allowing the other access.

Hermione’s hand tangled into soft red hair, and she sighed into the kiss, causing Ginny’s stomach to flutter. A moment later, the younger girl felt another stirring, deeper and further down.

Surprised at herself, she had to still the urge to pull away. So far, she hadn’t considered the sexual aspect of their relationship, only the emotional. Belatedly, she realized that she’d never felt this kissing boys. All the same, she did now, and the realization caused Ginny to flush, her pale skin growing warm.

Finally, she pulled back, too flustered to notice Hermione’s eyes flutter peacefully open, or the serene smile that played over the brunette’s lips. Her own hand came up to trace her lips as if testing that they really were hers and didn’t belong to someone else. At the same time, Hermione’s hand slid back around to caress her blushing cheek and their eyes met.

Several seconds later, the moment was broken. A strangled gurgle cracked the silence of the Infirmary, followed by a thump. Eyes widening, Ginny’s gaze slid past Hermione and the curtain to take in the forms of three of the strangers from breakfast. Next, she noticed the prone form of her older brother, Ron, a trickle of blood running from his nose.

“Oh no,” she groaned.

*

Struggling to suppress his mirth at the scene that had unfolded, Duo caught Trowa’s eye. This was certainly turning out to be an interesting day. Bending down, he tapped the boy’s cheek lightly with the back of his hand.

By the time Ron started to come around, his sister had joined them, blushing furiously. “Ron? Are you okay?”

“Ginny?” Ron asked groggily. Then, awareness set in and he sat up, wincing at the pain in his head. “What the hell? Why were you kissing Hermione?”

“What makes you think I wasn’t kissing her?” asked a heated voice from beyond his range of vision. 

Standing up and turning around, Ron saw Hermione, who was now standing with her arms crossed, and blushing as brightly as his sister. “Uh…”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Ginny and I are an item.” Although she looked quite stern, there was no mistaking the pink splashed across Hermione’s cheeks.

Forgetting his embarrassment, Ron gaped. “None of my business? My best friend and my sister… together… and it’s none of my business?”

“I don’t stick my nose into your love life, Ron. So what right do you have poking into mine?” Ginny scolded, having regained her composure. Her nose twitched irritably.

“I have every right to know that my sister is more interested in her own sex, and the rest of the family does, too.”

“Ron, no! You can’t tell them!” Ginny cried, casting a frantic glance towards Hermione.

“Ron, be reasonable,” Hermione added.

Ron stared from one to the other, nostrils flaring as he fumed inwardly. “This is just some sort of phase, right? Right, Hermione?”

Out of his peripheral vision, Duo saw the nurse, who had been standing silently in her office doorway, duck back out of sight, choosing to play dumb and ignore what she was hearing. He also noticed that Quatre was looking quite distressed, and Trowa—bored—had seated himself on a nearby bed, waiting until the argument played out.

“Ron, I know this is difficult for you to understand, but I care about Ginny very much. In fact,” Hermione added, glancing at her girlfriend. “I love her.”

Ron just groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t believe this. I really don’t. It just isn’t natural.”

In a flash of brilliance, the younger Weasley tried a new tactic, tears springing to her eyes almost instantaneously. “Ron?” she said weakly, moving closer to him. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? Oh, please, Ron. You’re my brother. I trust you, and I was going to tell you. I just couldn’t find the right way to do it. You still love me, don’t you?”

Falling like a stone off a cliff, Ron’s resolve broke and he drew Ginny into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Of course I still love you, Gin. It’s just… it’s a bit of a shock, is all. You’re not little Ginny anymore.”

Sniffling for added effect, Ginny hugged her brother back. “And you won’t tell anyone?”

“You’ll have to tell mom and dad eventually, you know.”

“I know, but I’m not ready yet.”

After a moment’s pause, Ron nodded. “Okay, Gin. I’ll keep your secret. At least, this way, I won’t have to beat ambitious boys away with a stick.”

Hermione grinned at Ginny’s cunning and launched herself at Ron, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind and placing a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a gem!”

Laughing, Duo finally stepped in. “Right, now that that’s settled, shall we move on to other matters?”

“Right, like who the hell you are, and what you’re doing here,” Ron put in.

“Uh, yeah, actually I was thinking more along the lines of how Hermione is,” Duo answered, indicating the girl with his head.

“Oh, I’m much better now,” Hermione answered, grinning and taking hold of Ginny’s hand.

“I’ll bet,” Ron mumbled, wincing at the kick to his shin. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“Wonderful. Now, we should find Heero and Harry… and Wufei, I guess, and maybe then we can answer your questions,” Duo told them cheerily. “I assume Hermione’s okay to leave?” he called out to the nurse.

“Go right ahead, dear,” the woman replied, her voice filled with amusement.

“Nifty.” With that, Duo was out the door, expecting the rest to follow him. 

“Nifty?” Trowa asked, suddenly at Duo’s side.

Duo just grinned at him and winked. “So, do we have any idea of where to look?”

“Um, guys? Hold up a second,” Ginny called. “The three of us still have class.”

Duo paused, mid step, then slowly turned around. He grinned and scratched the back of his head. “Heh, yeah… Guess I forgot about that. Well, why don’t we go look for Heero, and then we’ll all meet up at lunch. K?”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Hermione answered before Ron could comment. “See you in the library?”

“Sure, library it is.” Duo spun around and walked off, dragging Trowa behind him.

Quatre sighed. “Why do I get the feeling I’ll be the only one searching?”

Ginny suddenly giggled, catching the significance of the boy’s statement. When Hermione raised her eyebrows in question, she leaned up to whisper into her girlfriend’s ear.

“Oh,” was all Hermione said, the faint blush returning to her cheeks.

*

After Heero left Wufei’s room, he spent some time walking around the castle. He was extremely relieved that he wouldn’t have to assassinate the boy after all. He’d come to think of Wufei as a friend, even if it was his fault that Heero had taken up the terrible habit of smoking. He only did so once in a while, but found that he was able to relax for a bit afterwards. Naturally, he knew that was caused by the mind altering effects of nicotine, but for once, he couldn’t seem to care.

Sometimes, Heero needed to relax. Everyone needed to relax at some point, even glorified teen murderers.

Shaking his head, Heero tore himself away from such unproductive thoughts. Out the window, he had an unobstructed view of the beautiful land surrounding the castle. An old oak tree sat to the left, close to the massive lake. To the other side, lay the Forbidden Forest. It was obvious that the school was well protected by these natural constructs, and the lay of the land would certainly work in their favour as a tool of protection.

Protection… Heero found it hard to believe that anyone who could alter reality with the wave of a wand was in need of protection; certainly not by normal human beings without a magical bone in their bodies. However, a mission was a mission, and Heero would do all he could to fulfil it.

In truth, he was scared. This world was something he didn’t understand. That was unnatural for Heero, as what he didn’t know, he could find on his computer. But here, in this world, a computer wouldn’t even work.

Worse than the world itself was Heero’s assignment. He’d taken it because he knew just how dangerous it would be. Voldemort was unlikely to be a fool, and if Heero failed to find the right cover and convince the Dark Lord of it, then his life was in serious danger. He couldn’t let Trowa go. Duo would be devastated if anything happened to his lover, and Heero couldn’t let that happen. He cared too much to let Duo suffer.

Raising a hand to the glass window, he was surprised at its warmth. He’d expected it to be cool to his touch. Instead, it spread warmth through his fingertips and up his arm.

“Yes, the windows are spelled to warm when winter comes around. Not many of the students seem to notice, though,” a kindly voice stated.

“Mr. Dumbledore,” Heero greeted awkwardly.

“Call me Albus, please,” the headmaster said humbly. “May I ask a question of you?” Heero nodded. “Was I right? The young Muggle who is staying up in Gryffindor Tower, he’s an ally of yours?”

Heero hesitated before answering, wondering how much he should say. “He was a part of G.U.N.D.A.M not long ago, but despite his retirement from the organization, Wufei has agreed to join us once more in this mission.”

Dumbledore nodded, his gaze turned inward as he pondered some unknown thought. Then, his mood changed in an instant, attention returned to Heero. “I have a few things to take care of, but if you would care to meet me after tea the night after next, I wish to discuss with you the means of your infiltration. That is, if you would accept my input.”

“Of course, sir,” Heero answered, knowing that where he had very little knowledge of this world and no idea as to how to accomplish his mission, this man was incredibly wise in many aspects. “I would appreciate that.”

“Wonderful,” Dumbledore mumbled, smiling. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts then.” The Headmaster nodded respectfully and then strolled off down the corridor.

Heero stared after him, wondering what it was about the man that exuded such a sense of security.

*

“So, what was her name?” Harry asked, looking up at Wufei’s face.

They’d been lying in bed together when Harry had asked Wufei about his previous relationships. Wufei had happily told him that he hadn’t always been gay. In fact, he’d had a girlfriend two years ago who had been the one to help him realize his sexuality. She’d been the sixth member of G.U.N.D.A.M. A fiery girl with a strong spirit, and great aim.

“Her name was Meiran. She was my partner.” Wufei replied, smiling in memory.

“Meiran,” Harry muttered. “That’s a lovely name.”

“She was a lovely person behind the tough girl mask. When she died, I tried to alienate myself from the others. Although, with those four, it isn’t easy. Maxwell somehow manages to make you like him, even though he’s an annoying twerp. Trowa seems to be quiet until you know him better. He’s afraid of very little and has a strange sense of humour. Quatre… Nobody could dislike Quatre. If I didn’t know some of the things he’s done, I would think him one of the sweetest people on Earth. In some ways, he is. And Heero, the one you met before, he’s a very closed person, but I liked him best of all. Before I left, we talked. I’ve never really talked with anyone besides you and Heero since Meiran was killed. For some reason, I found it easy to talk with him. I tried so hard not to get attached to them, but somehow, I did anyway. I guess you’re partly to blame for that,” he said, grinning. “After I met you, I think I must have loosened up a little.”

“I’m glad,” Harry told him quietly. “Everyone needs friends.”

“I could easily do without them if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you,” Wufei murmured, holding up their intertwined hands and placing a soft kiss on Harry’s thumb.

“You can do that anyway,” Harry whispered, leaning up to brush his lips against Wufei’s.

“Then my life is perfect,” Wufei answered, his breath tickling Harry’s skin.

*

Quatre roamed around the school’s corridors. While Duo and Trowa had proposed checking their rooms, the blond thought it best to search around the school. After all, he didn’t think Heero would be hiding in anyone’s bed sheets.

He was properly amused by the animated paintings, and they revelled in his awed observation. Then, he came across a portrait of the most beautiful woman. She sported long locks of golden-blond curls, and had such serene eyes. When she noticed he was staring, she smiled sweetly at him.

“Sweetie, it isn’t appropriate to stare that way at a painting,” she chided mockingly, a bubbling laugh issuing from her.

Turning red, Quatre hastened to correct her. “Oh, no. It isn’t that. It’s just… You remind me so much of my mother,” he confessed, lowering his eyes.

“I believe I can explain that,” a new voice stated, making Quatre jump.

Startled, he turned to face the Headmaster, not used to allowing people to sneak up on him. “Professor Dumbledore.” Composing himself, he smiled in greeting. “You caught me off guard.”

The old man returned his smile, and then addressed the painting. “Aethylla, could you meet us in my office? I’d like to discuss something with Quatre that you should hear as well.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” the portrait—Aethylla—agreed. 

“Sir?” Quatre asked, his mind already swarming with unformed suspicions. 

“This way,” Dumbledore instructed, gesturing for Quatre to follow. 

When they finally reached the Headmaster’s office, Quatre allowed his curiosity to surface. “Sir? What’s going on?”

“Please take a seat, my boy. I may have a bit of a shock for you.”

Taking his advice, Quatre sat, and waited for Dumbledore to continue.

“Aethylla here is a rather recent addition to our walls. She taught Divination before Professor Trelawney came along. Unfortunately, she passed away some sixteen years ago.”

When Dumbledore paused, Quatre took the opportunity to cut in. “What has this got to do with me?” he asked, failing to see the connection.

“Patience, patience. When Aethylla was forty, she had a daughter, but the child’s father was a Muggle, and took her away to live with him. That child’s father was called Mahati Raberba.”

“Raberba?” Quatre asked, the implication dawning in his mind. “Then, the child—Aethylla’s daughter—she was my mother, wasn’t she?”

The answer came not from Dumbledore, but from Aethylla. “Yes, Catherine was my daughter, which makes you my grandson. A wizard.” 

“A wizard?” Obviously this thought hadn’t occurred to the boy.

Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Yes, Quatre, a wizard. Your mother was denied a wizarding education because Mahati had already betrothed her to your father. Catherine never knew of her magic. Therefore, neither did you. You should have been brought here at eleven years, but by then, not even I could find a trace of you. However, although it may be too late to draw out your magic, I believe it has manifested itself in the form of empathy. Am I right?”

Quatre stared at the table, thinking desperately. His mother and grandmother were witches, which made him a wizard. That did explain his sensitivity. Sometimes, he felt the emotions or thoughts of those around him, but he’d never paid it much heed. 

“Yes,” he finally answered. “You are right.” 

Dumbledore nodded, having known so all along. “I think it would be best if you were to stay here at Hogwarts. If it is possible, I would like to have you sorted into a house. Although, unfortunately, I think that choice is pre-destined. Perhaps you would benefit from certain classes such as Divination. There is a large chance that, surrounded by a magical community, your magic may resurface, little by little.”

“I-” Quatre found himself longing to stay and learn, but he knew he couldn’t. His mission was to stay in Hogsmeade and keep an eye on the village. He couldn’t afford distraction; that’s what got people killed.

“Before you answer, I am certain that you would be sorted into Slytherin. A necessity due to your lifestyle, I’m afraid.” There seemed to be a hint of sadness in the Headmaster’s clear blue eyes, but a moment later, it was gone. “I stray from the point. Although I do not like to judge, many dark wizards and witches come from Slytherin, and I’m afraid that the parents of certain students are known Death Eaters. It may be to our advantage for one of you to join their inner circle, and your situation would provide the perfect opportunity.”

*

After Quatre left Dumbledore’s office, he had a lot on his mind. His mother had died in childbirth and he’d only ever seen pictures of her. That was why he’d been in such a state of shock to see Aethylla’s portrait. He still couldn’t quite believe what he’d been told. Although, it felt… right. It was almost as though he could feel something that he’d always known was there, just not consciously. It must be his magic. If only he could stay at Hogwarts. Maybe he really could become a wizard.

Dumbledore’s argument was a good one. Even with Heero spying, it wouldn’t hurt to place someone within Slytherin, and Quatre was the perfect candidate. But that would leave Hogsmeade uncovered.

“Quatre?” Heero’s voice cut into his thoughts and he looked up, realizing that that was the second time he’d been caught unawares. “Is something wrong?”

Biting his lip, Quatre shook his head. He opened his mouth to support that gesture, but instead of saying what he’d meant to, something entirely different came out. “I’m a wizard.”

“What?” Heero asked, watching him closely as though he’d lost his mind.

Too late to take the words back, Quatre began from the beginning. “I met my grandmother, or, a portrait of her. We went up to the Headmaster’s office and they told me about my grandfather and how he took my mother with him, and she didn’t get to come here because she was engaged to my father, and-“

“Quatre, slow down,” Heero urged, frowning.

The blond nodded. “Sorry. Well, Professor Dumbledore thinks that my magic was suppressed and emerged as empathy. He wants me to stay here to try and draw my magic out. But I can’t do that, no matter how much I want to.”

“Hold up,” Heero said, leaning against the wall. “Maybe you can. I talked with Wufei this morning. He’s going to join us. There’s no way he’s leaving Hogwarts, so if Trowa and Duo can watch over Hogsmeade, then maybe you can stay.”

“Dumbledore wants to sort me into a house. He says he’s sure that I’d be put in Slytherin where I’d be able to keep an eye on those students.” Quatre latched onto the rope he’d been thrown, trying not to get too attached to his growing sense of hope.

“That’s a good idea. I don’t like the look of those kids.” Heero pushed off the wall and began to walk down the corridor, Quatre in tow. “We’ll see what the others think.”


	20. Chapter 20

Having almost forgotten about Herbology, Harry arrived late once more, although only by about five minutes. Luckily, Professor Sprout was in a cheerful mood and didn’t make much of it. Quickly, he grabbed a seat at Ron and Hermione’s table, making a point of paying attention to the Professor.

“Oi, Harry,” Ron whispered loudly, trying to grab his attention.

“Shhh.” Harry hadn’t really taken in a word of what Professor Sprout was saying, but he just didn’t want to answer questions right now.

Unfortunately, when a third year came running into the classroom, begging the Professor to come quickly, he had no excuse. Sighing, he turned to Ron and Hermione. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Harry, what’s wrong with you?” Hermione asked, looking a little hurt.

Taken aback, he hung his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long morning, that’s all.”

“Well there’s no need to take it out on us, mate,” Ron told him. “Besides, you’re not the only one who’s had a long morning. Hermione spent half of it up in the Infirmary.”

“Huh?” Harry asked, looking up at Hermione. “What happened?”

“It was nothing,” she muttered.

“She had a nervous breakdown,” Ron answered for her. “And then I went up to see her to find-”

“Ron! If you have to tell him, not here, you idiot,” Hermione whispered frantically, having clasped a hand over Ron’s mouth.

Harry blinked very slowly and then frowned. “Uh, okay. Apparently I missed a lot.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ron groaned, rolling his eyes and rubbing his jaw. He cast a brief glare at Hermione before turning back to Harry. “Anyway, tell us what happened to you.”

“Well, I was late, and-”

“We know that bit. WHY were you late?” 

“Well, I don’t really know myself, really. I ran into ‘Fei and some other guy and just ended up being really late. That’s all.” Harry scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione looked at him with pity, jumping to conclusions. “Oh, that’s awful. Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no. I kinda thought that at first, too, but no. That’s not it at all.” He rushed to correct her. 

Ron just blinked and looked from one to the other, blankly.

“Oh, okay,” Hermione answered, slowly. “So, what happened after… after you left the Dungeons, then?”

“Well, I, uh, went up to Gryffindor Tower to talk with Wufei,” Harry told her, feeling his face grow warm.

“You talked…”

“Ahuh, talked. About stuff. He, uh, told me why Heero was there and… stuff.”

“And stuff…?”

“Stuff.”

“I see.”

“What in the bloody hell are you two going on about?” Ron finally cut in, exasperated with all the circles. “Can we get to the point already? Harry, we need to go to the library at lunch time.”

“What? But we’ll miss lunch!” Harry complained. “Why? I’m hungry.”

“Because—um, I don’t know their names… Those Muggle guys, they’re gonna explain something to us. This naturally revolves around you. So, you should be there,” his friend reasoned.

“Okay, okay. I’ll just starve to death then,” grumbled Harry, resting his head in his palm. “So, what exactly are they meant to be explaining, anyway?”

“Well, who they are, and why they’re here,” said Hermione.

“I already know that, but okay, whatever. So, why don’t you fill me in on what happened to you, Hermione?”

In reply, Ron grinned, and received a solid thump on the back of the head in return. 

*

Quatre was filled with a nervous energy by the time he, Heero, and Wufei (who they had fetched from a tower protected by a charmingly robust lady portrait) reached the library. He was desperately hoping that he could stay. That familiar something inside him seemed to insist that he pay attention to it. Of course, seeing Wufei again added to his good mood. He’d been so afraid that Heero would be forced to carry out his orders. Thankfully, there was no need for that anymore, and they were a team again. Well, not that they’d really been a team in the first place, but they were now, the way he felt it was supposed to be.

Looking around, he spotted Trowa and Duo easily, and the three of them headed over to the isolated corner table that had been chosen.

“Wu!” Duo called, jumping up to throw himself at the other boy. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

Clearing his throat, Wufei nodded and returned the hug briefly. Then, he extricated himself and sat down, nodding to Trowa.

A moment after he sat down, Ginny arrived and made her way over to their table. She sat next to Wufei, shyly glancing at the others. 

“Hey, Red,” Duo greeted her with a grin.

“My name’s Ginny,” she told him, getting over her shyness very quickly indeed.

Duo just shrugged. “I know that, but Red’s cuter.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Right.”

Wufei laughed, drawing surprised looks from everyone but Ginny.

“What have they done to you Wu-man? A sense of humour? You poor, poor thing,” Duo intoned gravely.

“It’s terrible,” Wufei replied in all seriousness. “I expect to spontaneously combust any day now.”

That just made Duo stare open mouthed, which, in turn, caused Trowa to laugh at him.

“It’s good to have you back, Wufei,” Trowa told him when he’d composed himself once more.

Finally, Harry, Hermione, and Ron joined them. Ginny shifted over to make room for Harry and Hermione sat on her other side, leaving the only free seat next to Heero at the end of the table. Reluctantly, Ron took it. 

Once they were all seated, Wufei took it upon himself to make the introductions, being the only one to know everyone. “Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Quatre, Trowa, Duo, Ron, Heero.”

“Well, that was basic,” Duo quipped.

Wufei shrugged and turned to Heero, obviously expecting him to take it from there. 

“Why are you looking at me? Duo’s the one who loves to talk.” Quite out of character, Heero smirked, which caused those who knew him to look at him strangely. 

Quatre couldn’t help thinking that this place had a very odd effect on people.

“Why don’t we start with questions,” Trowa suggested, looking at Ron.

“Okay, so who are you guys? And how do you know Wufei?”

“We work for an organization called G.U.N.D.A.M,” Quatre answered. “And we know Wufei because he is, or, was, one of us.”

“So, why are you here?” Hermione prompted, filing that piece on information away with a narrowing of the eyes.

“Like I said earlier, we’re here to protect Harry,” Trowa told her. “Although, there’s more to it than that.”

“Voldemort has allied with Minister of Defense and founder of the Romefeller Foundation, Treize Khushrenada. Both are ambitious enough to destroy either our world, or yours,” Heero added with a sneer. “Voldemort’s initial goal is to prove himself over Harry once and for all, and then to wreak havoc over both worlds he wishes to claim. Khushrenada is bent on domination of politics, economy, and anything else he can get his hands on. He is our enemy and the reason we have become involved with your world. But, I intend to see this through to the end. No doubt Voldemort will turn on Khushrenada the moment he gets what he wants.”

Quatre was surprised to hear how much Heero seemed to have come to care about this world in so short a time, and he wasn’t the only one. All of them had gotten attached in only a matter of a day. The people, the sights, the atmosphere… 

“How do Muggles protect a wizard?” Ginny asked suddenly.

“The same way we protect everyone else; heads and guns!” Duo answered, far too cheerfully.

“It may sound strange, but we’re no normal ‘Muggles’. We’re all well trained and can hit any target. A bullet flies faster than any human can speak, or say a spell… or, whatever…” Trowa trailed off, unfamiliar with wizarding terms. 

“Right. So, what’s a gun?”

Everyone turned to Ron in either disbelief, or amusement. Then, laughed as one.

“What?”

“If you four have no more questions, shall we move on?” When the others nodded, Heero continued. “Well, since Wufei has agreed to join us, we now have an extra agent to add into our equations. Therefore, we need to make some adjustments. I will continue on my mission—don’t interrupt me, Trowa; you and Duo should now go into Hogsmeade, while Quatre infiltrates Slytherin and Wufei personally guards Harry. Any objections?”

“Fine with me!” Duo grinned.

“Really?” Quatre couldn’t help it, he found himself grinning as well.

“Sure, Q. Why?”

“Because I’m actually a half wizard. Dumbledore wants me to stay here at the school so I can take some classes, and hopefully draw my magic out,” Quatre explained.

Duo blinked, having been about to speak when Hermione’s outburst cut in. “You’re a wizard?”

Quatre nodded. “On my mother’s side.”

“So, you can do magic and shit?” the braided boy questioned, enthusiastically.

“Not exactly. Dumbledore said that my magic was suppressed, emerging in the form of empathy. But he thinks that if I take some classes and spend some time in the magical community, I might be able to become a proper wizard one day.”

“That… is so fucking cool!”

“But, there’s a tactical advantage in this as well,” Quatre hastened on, desperate to justify his somewhat selfish cause. “The Headmaster is sure that I’ll be sorted into Slytherin. I’d be able to watch over those kids and keep tabs on any rumors, etc.”

“I find it hard to imagine you in Slytherin,” Ron said, peering at Quatre as though that would help.

“You’d be surprised,” Quatre told him, a hint of sadness creeping into his tone. “Sometimes, even I am.”

*

“So, you talked, huh?” Hermione muttered as they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, slightly behind Ron. “About, stuff?”

“Okay, how do you know?” Harry asked, pausing mid-step. 

Smiling sweetly, Hermione played dumb. “Hmm? Know what?” When Harry glared at her, narrowing his eyes, she laughed. “Okay, okay, Ginny told me. Don’t be angry, though.”

“She told you?” Far from angry, Harry looked a little panicked. “What about Ron? Does Ron know?”

“If he did, don’t you think he would have said something? He can hardly keep his mouth shut about Ginny and me. I doubt that-“

“Ginny and you?”

“Mhmm,” Hermione answered, then continued walking.

Harry hurried to catch up to her. “So, that’s what Ron was talking about. Er, exactly how did Ron find out?”

“He walked in on a somewhat private moment in the Infirmary.” Hermione grinned cheekily. “Then passed out cold.”

“No wonder you recovered so quickly. Note to self, lock all doors whenever possible.”

“So, what else did you and Wufei get up to?” Hermione asked, changing the subject.

Harry grinned. “Oh… stuff.” Then, he hastened to catch up with Ron, leaving Hermione to make of that what she would.


	21. Chapter 21

Trees… lots of green foliage… maybe a couple of swallows, a small trickle of water down one of the walls…  
   
Ginny thought of all this as she paced back and forth, three times, in front of the Room of Requirement. Finally, she stopped and opened the door.  
   
This room was so handy. It was much easier to visualize becoming a fox when you were surrounded by nature, rather than on a hard, stone floor, or squishy mattress.  
   
Stepping into her artificial forest, Ginny closed the door behind her. She found her usual tree root and sat cross legged, leaning against it. Closing her eyes, she relaxed all of her muscles and concentrated on shallowing her breath.  
   
Unfortunately, she couldn’t focus. Something was nagging at her mind. Hermione…  
   
Giving up, Ginny drew her knees up to her chest. It wasn’t normal for someone to recover so fast. Surely Madam Pomfrey knew that. Why on Earth would she let Hermione go? Granted, the girl had sounded perfectly normal. Cheery, even. That was even more disturbing.  
   
 _I had this strange notion of being your light. Of being there for you._  
   
What Hermione didn’t realize, was that she’d already touched something deep inside of Ginny had been presumed broken.  
   
 _Ron, I know this is difficult for you to understand, but I care about Ginny, very much. In fact, I love her._  
   
I love her.  
   
Ginny blinked away the wetness in her eyes. She had to make sure that Hermione was truly okay. In truth, Hermione really was her light. Without her, Ginny was afraid of losing herself to the same dark path she’d started to tread after second year.  
   
Learning to become an animagus had helped for a while. It gave Ginny something to focus on. Sirius had understood that. That was why she’d risked asking him to help her. But now that he was gone…  
   
Returning to her meditation position, Ginny shook her mind free of negative thoughts. She had to do this—for Sirius.  
   
Today, she would make her first full transformation.  
   
Over the last few weeks she’d made a lot of progress. First her nose would change, then she’d feel fur grow over her skin. A tail would sprout from her bottom, at which point she’d lean forward onto her hands and knees, and then her feet and hands would become paws, and her ears and face elongate. She was determined that this time her body would change.  
   
That was the riskiest part of all. When changing body shape, all the internal organs had to shift as well. The outward appearance was only the first step. Still, Ginny was ready.  
   
She felt the changes begin, very slowly. Her whole body tingled as she felt the fur grow in; it was such an odd sensation. Soon, her ears lengthened and all of her senses heightened considerably.  
   
For the first time, her thighs and arms began to shift, the muscles condensing, bones regrowing so that her limbs were situated beneath her body. Then, her spine changed, followed by her neck, chest, stomach, and lower regions. Before she realized it, Ginny was entirely fox.  
   
Letting out a loud and happy yip, she attempted to jump as a human would, and found herself sprawled on the ground. Now that the shifting part was over, she really had to learn how to use her new body.  
   
*  
   
Hanging back, Harry waited for the rest of the class to file out. He’d been asked to stay behind. Probably something to do with the D.A., he figured. Finally, he made his way to the front of the classroom.  
   
“Yes, Professor?”  
   
“Do you think you could do me a favor? There’s a lonely werewolf cooped up in my office marking papers, who misses you terribly. Why don’t you go visit him?” asked Professor Peacecraft, his cool blue eyes flicking pointedly towards the door.  
   
Harry grinned. “I think I could do that,” he said.  
   
*  
   
Lupin sighed and rubbed his eyes. The kids never seemed to realize just how serious this subject was. They’d put minimal research into their homework and then copy the rest off of others, fudging words as they worked. Some of this information could very well save their lives one day.  
   
A knock at the door caused him to smile in relief. He could do with a short distraction. Placing his quill in its holder, he invited the person in. When he saw that it was Harry, his smile grew and he embraced the boy.  
   
“It’s about time you came to see me!”  
   
“I know. Sorry I haven’t been round more often. It’s just been kind of hectic lately.” Something about Harry’s tone suggested that he was quite exhausted.  
   
“What’s wrong?” Lupin asked, sitting down again.  
   
“Nothing… Well… Actually, something.” Harry took a seat on the office couch and closed his eyes. “I got kicked out of Potions this morning.”  
   
“What?” Lupin’s exclamation was all but a growl. “We’ll see about that.”  
   
When Harry opened his eyes again, the grim smile he’d developed never reached them. “You sound like Sirius.”  
   
“Wha-” Thinking twice, Lupin paused. Slowly, a small smile of his own crept over his features. “I suppose I do but that isn’t the point. Snape can’t kick you out. He’s not allowed.”  
   
“As much as I hate to admit it, he had every right to,” Harry confessed.  
   
Lupin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s literally not allowed. Let’s face it. You need to be treated differently and you’ve earned it. Dumbledore is determined that you’ll become an auror, and for that to happen, you need Potions. Snape knows that. He just wants to see you squirm; slimy bastard that he is.”  
   
A small twitch began at the corner of Harry’s mouth and soon spread to a grin. “He really can’t kick me out? That must really piss him off.”  
   
Laughing at the sheer malicious glee in Harry’s voice, Lupin couldn’t help but grin, too. “Now, tell me why you think you deserve to be kicked out.”  
   
“Well, I never put it in those words but I was late. Really, really late. I’d run into Wufei in Gryffindor Tower and he was with Heero. Although, I didn’t know who Heero was at that point. Before I realized it, I’d been standing there for over half the lesson, trying to decide whether I could trust ‘Fei or not. When I finally got down to Potions, Snape tried to send me away for the lesson, but then Wufei came down, saying he needed to speak to me. I kind of snapped at Snape. He didn’t really like that, as you can imagine. So he kicked me out.”  
   
“I wouldn’t really call those fair grounds. For a week of detentions, maybe, but not to kick you out. You should know better than to provoke Snape, though. Push him to far, and you never know…” Resting his elbow on the desk and chin in his hand, Lupin peered at Harry, his grey eyes taking in the faint circles under the boy’s eyes. “How are you feeling after that Quidditch incident?”  
   
“Oh, much better. I felt fine after a little sleep,” Harry answered. “What would I do without Madame Pomfrey? The Infirmary is like a second home to me.”  
   
Lupin chuckled. “It was the same with James. He just couldn’t stay out of trouble. Speaking of, what was so urgent that Wufei thought to interrupt your class?”  
   
“He said that if he didn’t tell me right away, he didn’t think he’d have the nerve. And it was true; I had to drag it out of him.” Harry drew his feet up onto the couch. “He told me about what he used to do, before he met Mr. Weasley in the Leaky Cauldron. He said that he was part of an underground group called G.U.N.D.A.M and that they were working against the Muggle Minister Treize Kushrenada who, in basic terms, wants to take over the world. He was ashamed to tell me before because he’s done a lot of things that he isn’t proud of. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but I need to talk to someone, and I trust you… He’s killed people, and even tortured one man.”  
   
Lupin grimaced. On one hand, he was glad that Harry trusted him, but on the other, he didn’t like what he was hearing. To him, Harry was still too young to be caught up in the wizarding world’s troubles let alone Muggle atrocities. “You’re okay with that?” he asked, keeping his voice a neutral as possible.  
   
Harry seemed to curl in upon himself. “I am,” he whispered, eyes fixed to the floor. “I love Wufei, and whatever he’s done, he’s done for the greater good. Sometimes, people talk and talk about what should be done but no one will because they can’t bring themselves to. Eventually, someone has to do something. ‘Fei and those other boys just happen to be that someone. How could I condemn him for believing enough in his cause to do what I’ve thought about a million times?”  
   
“Oh, Harry.” Whatever he’d been expecting Harry to say, it wasn’t this. “I don’t know how I failed to see just how fast you’ve grown up.” Lupin moved over to sit next to Harry and drew the boy into his arms. He could understand where Harry was coming from. After all, he’d been quite shocked by some of Milliardo’s confessions. Then, a completely random thought struck him. “Just how much HAVE you grown up?” he asked suspiciously, holding Harry at arm’s length.  
   
The blush that spread over Harry’s cheeks was more incriminating than any answer. “Uh, well…”  
   
“Do I need to buy a shotgun?” At Harry’s indignant glare, Lupin laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist that one. I hear it’s a Muggle tradition… But do I?”  
   
“No shotguns, but I’ll let you shoot him with a water pistol.”  
   
“Ahuh! I knew it!” Lupin cried, trying all he might to hide his grin, but with no luck.  
   
“Shouldn’t I be getting a lecture right about now?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.  
   
*Cough.* “Marauder.” *Cough.*  
   
“Good point.”

After Harry left, Lupin discarded his stack of papers for the time being. He headed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Just as he’d expected, he found Milliardo bent over his own load of work.

Approaching from behind, he rested his hands on the man’s shoulders. He hadn’t really expected to surprise Milliardo, for his lover was even more astute than Remus himself, canine hearing included.

“Harry came to see you?”

“He did.”

“And?”

“And…” Sighing, Remus lost his playful mood and conjured up a spare chair. “And no matter how many times I try to convince myself, I still don’t like it.”

“Like what?” Gratefully placing his quill back in the ink well, Milliardo turned to face his lover.

“Wufei. It isn’t the boy himself, or even that Harry’s sleeping with him.” This warranted a raised eyebrow. “But what he’s done. I know I shouldn’t judge, especially when I can easily ignore your past, but Wufei’s so young, and Harry, too. It’s… Unsettling.”

“Remus, we’ve had this talk before. Harry can take care of himself. As for Wufei, I’ve watched that boy, and I can tell you now that he’s as wary of himself as you are. Like Harry, he’s been through a lot and been forced to grow up before his time. But unlike Harry, he has blood on his hands. That will always haunt him. I can’t help feeling like he’s —all of them are—just like me. I can see how much they regret what they’ve had to do and how scarred they are. I also know first-hand that I would do everything I can to protect you.” Taking Remus’ hand, he held it to his chest, above his heart. “If I’m right, and he really is like me, then the same principal applies between Wufei and Harry.”

“I think that’s what scares me,” Remus whispered, leaning forward to kiss his lover’s cheek to take the sting from his words.

Turning his face, Milliardo intercepted the kiss, wrapping his arms around Remus’ shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do. This time, you’ll just have to trust Harry’s judgment.”


	22. Chapter 22

After the others had left for class, the five boys sat in relative silence for a small while. 

Naturally, the one to break this was Duo. “Man, this is too much. Am I the only one who feels like they’ve stepped into a fairy tale?” Surprisingly, it seemed he was. “So, you guys aren’t having any trouble at all accepting this?”

“Not really,” Trowa answered, amused by his lover’s frustration.

“I’ve been living here for some time now,” Wufei told him. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it—I don’t think even a Muggle-born wizard could—but it feels natural.”

Quatre nodded. “I know what you mean. I know it isn’t logical but it feels as though I’ve been here all my life. Or, at least a part of me has. I am having a little trouble… believing it, though.”

“Well you’d better start believing if you’ll be taking classes, Q.” The grin on Duo’s face was enough to steal one in return from the distracted blond.

“I guess you’re right,” Quatre answered, a somewhat dreamy quality to his tone.

“So what about you, Heero? I can’t believe how easily you’re taking this.”

“I like it here,” Heero answered simply, then subsided at the ‘If-You-Don’t-Elaborate-I’ll-Just-Bug-You-Till-You-Try-To-Strangle-Me’ expression his friend wore. “It’s strange, and unpredictable, and probably very deceptive, but it’s comfortable. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to ignore the charm that this world exudes.”

Duo blinked very slowly. “A long, emotional, and analytical observation. I think this place is working wonders with your personality.”

In spite of himself, Heero blushed… just a little. He hoped fervently that it hadn’t been noted, and quickly changed the subject. “I’m going to explore the grounds outside and take a look at that forest. I’ll see you guys later.” With that, he excused himself with the intention of finding Hagrid, the grounds keeper.

*

After Heero had left, Trowa decided to drag Duo off for a wander around the castle. He wanted to see as much of the place as he could before they left to go into town. 

As they roamed the hallways, Trowa unconsciously slipped his hand into Duo’s. The braided boy smiled at him and he smiled back. It was nice to have these moments, where the two of them could just be content in each other’s presence. 

Just as he brushed a thumb over Duo’s cheek, and leaned down to kiss the boy, he registered footsteps halting behind them.

“If you don’t mind, this is a school. We do not tolerate that sort of behaviour in the hallways,” an accented female voice proclaimed.

“Yes, of course, miss,” Trowa quickly stammered.

However, the woman did not scold them further, but smiled instead. “My name is Minerva McGonagall. I assume that the two of you are the special guests that the Headmaster spoke of.”

“That’s us!” Duo chirped, adding a little wave for good measure.

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, but do excuse me. I have some rather important business to attend to, and I’m rarely afforded time off from classes to do so.” With a brisk nod to each of them, she brushed past, but paused on a hind thought. “I assume that you will be more discreet from now on?”

“Of course, Professor,” Trowa answered, with a nod in return.

“Nice woman. A little stuffy, but nice,” Duo assessed after she’d rounded the corner. “I like her accent.”

They continued to move through the castle, occasionally having to backtrack in order to find a staircase that didn’t lead to thin air. Once, Duo almost got caught in a step but his quick reflexes paid off and allowed him to jump forward before he could become truly stuck. They learned to be a little more cautious from that point.

Unfortunately, Duo’s curious nature led him to touch things that may have seemed perfectly harmless… Until a secret passage opened up in the wall.

For a long moment, Duo stared in awe. Then, he grabbed Trowa’s hand, dragging his lover off into certain trouble. Inwardly, Trowa groaned. There was no way that a secret passage + Duo could lead to good.

After making their way through a very dark, winding, and gloomy stone passage that definitely went downwards, they reached a rather odd painting. Peering closely at it, Duo announced that it was basically just a poem, or a riddle, more precisely.

A riddle? After walking for what seemed like hours, Trowa was ready to take a nice, warm bath and cuddle up in bed. Who knew how long this might take? He was quite content to just return the way they’d come, and told Duo so.

“Don’t be stupid, Trowa,” the braided boy told him distractedly. “This will be fun.”

*

Quatre and Wufei were left together in the library, both caught up in their own thoughts.

“Wufei?” Quatre asked, drawing the other boy’s attention. Now that he’d begun, he wished he hadn’t. “I was just wondering about the Slytherins. Are they really as bad as they’re made out to be?”

“I only arrived at Hogwarts last night, myself, but from the brief exposure I have had to them… Yes.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t too reassuring. Something about the way Dumbledore had seemed so sorry tugged at him. How could a group of students have such a reputation that even their Headmaster was biased against them?

“Perhaps Malfoy may have influenced my perception of the house. It may not be so bad,” Wufei continued quietly, for Quatre’s sake.

“Malfoy?”

A distinct look of irritation came over Wufei’s face, and he began to tell the story of his brief meeting with the Slytherin.

“He sounds terribly arrogant,” Quatre muttered eventually. His previous excitement was dampened in the face of what may await him in that house. “I suppose I’ll need to befriend him if my mission here is to be of any use.”

Wufei just watched him for a long moment. Then, he leaned back in his chair. “You really are a most noble person, Quatre. Just once, you need to do something for you. Forget one arrogant boy. You have the opportunity to dabble in what, to most, would be a dream come true. Let yourself enjoy it.”

Somehow, Wufei had managed to touch on the very thing that was bothering Quatre. “I can’t help worrying that I’ll lose sight of the objective. I gave up my freedom long ago, we all did. My priority is to the mission. I’m afraid that I’ll let myself be distracted.”

“There is nothing I can say to that. You should have more faith in yourself. The others do, as do I.”

Surprised by the sincerity and openness Wufei was offering, Quatre felt himself smile. “Freedom isn’t all that we sacrificed, Wufei. I think we all lost bit by bit of our souls over the years, but it seems that you’ve healed, at least a little.”

“I found my peace,” Wufei all but whispered. “And so will you. Slytherin or no, this may be your chance.”

“I think you’re right.” Struck by the truth of Wufei’s words, Quatre was filled with awe at the tendril of hope that had been thrown his way. The wizarding world was certainly full of surprises, and he was sure that they’d only seen the bare minimum so far. Whatever happened here, it would certainly change their lives in a very big way.

*

When Harry reached the common room, he noticed that none of his close friends were down there. So he headed up to his dorm room. There were voices coming from inside, and when he opened the door, he found Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all sitting around and talking.

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione greeted him. “What did Peacecraft want?”

Grinning, Harry took a seat on his bed. “He sent me to Lupin. We had a little chat.”

“How is he?” Ginny asked, only a brief hint of concern showing in her voice.

“He’s doing fine. No doubt thanks to a certain Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…” Harry winked.

“Oh, come on. You’re not saying… No. No way!” Ron groaned.

Hermione, on the other hand, giggled. “Is no one straight these days?”

“Me! I am!” called Ron, throwing his hand into the air emphatically. “Feel free to follow any time, Harry.”

“Uh…” With a panicked look to Hermione, Harry felt himself blush once more.

Gaping, Ron let his hand drop very slowly. “Not you, too… Oh, bloody hell.”

Fidgeting with the bed sheets, Harry refused to look at his friend. “I’m sorry. I probably should have told you about Wufei sooner. I just wasn’t sure-”

“Wufei?!” A somewhat choked gurgle issued from Ron’s throat. 

Apparently, that was too much for Ginny who burst out in a fit of giggles, trying to bury her face in Hermione’s shoulder to muffle them.

Apart from that, no one made a sound. Even Hermione didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, Ron ran a hand through his hair. “It never rains, but it bloody well pours. I really do not believe this.”

“Ron-”

“Don’t you ‘Ron’ me, Hermione. Give a bloke a break! I was willing to work on accepting you two, but all three—four—SIX of you, in one day? It’s a little much to take in.”

Unfortunately, Ginny just couldn’t hold back on that one. She snorted rather loudly.

Harry glared at her. “Ginny, you really need to work on that gutter-brain of yours.”

However, Ron was staring open-mouthed once again, a thought apparently having just occurred to him. “You haven’t… You know… Have you?”

“Actually,” Harry mumbled, wishing he could just bury his face in the sheets. 

“Don’t finish that, please. On second thought, I don’t want to know.” Abruptly, he stood up. “I’m just going to go for a little walk.”

“Ron-”

“Just, shhh…” He held up his hands in exasperation and walked out of the room, all but slamming the door behind him. 

“Well… That went well,” Harry mumbled, wiping a hand across his eyes, tiredly.

“Oh, Harry.” Ginny pounced onto his bed and hugged him. “Ron will come around. You’re his best friend. He won’t let something like this get in the way.”

“Ginny’s right. He may be a little hasty at times, but I’m sure that once he’s had a chance to think, it will be okay.” Hermione rested her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder and peered at Harry from beneath her hair. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see. Besides, there’s a Hogsmeade weekend this week. It’ll be a good chance for everyone to relax and clear the air.”

*

It had taken at least half an hour for Duo and Trowa to solve the riddle. Once they had, they stumbled upon a dank chamber in what could only be the school’s ‘dungeons’.

“Holy shit,” Duo muttered. “This place should win a prize for neglect.” He was quite right. The room was filled with cobwebs and old junk covered in mould and mildew. “You’d think this would be avoidable with magical cleaning methods… I guess no-one comes down here.”

“Ahuh… Now can we go?”

“Sure, Tro! After I have a quick look around.”

A ‘quick look around’ proved to be a good hour’s worth of rummaging which scored Duo several items that he couldn’t even begin to guess the uses of. Once the braided boy was satisfied with his loot, he finally agreed to head back.

By the time they reached the secret entrance to the passage, it was well into dinner time, though neither of them was interested. Trowa was determined to take a bath and Duo dying to mess around with what he’d found. Heading back to their room, Trowa quickly stripped off and ran the water in the tub, sighing in relief as he sank into its heated calm. He would definitely have to find out if there were more of those secret passages, if only to keep Duo away from them. 

Vaguely, he worried about Duo playing with the things he’d found, although they had to be old beyond belief, and probably unable to be used if they were locked away in that little room.


	23. Chapter 23

That night, dinner was a tense affair. Harry had elected to go down as soon as possible; he was starving. Hermione and Ginny watched in amusement as he devoured a considerable amount of food. Then, all at once, he lost his appetite completely.  
   
The moment Ron sat across from them a few seats down, Harry ceased to eat. He also lost all interest in conversation. The mood soon spread to those around them, who seemed to notice that Ron, too, was remarkably quiet.  
   
When Wufei made his way in, and a spot was cleared for him next to Harry, the tension was almost palpable. He soon picked up on the atmosphere and turned his eyes to Harry in concern. “What’s wrong?”  
   
“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry muttered, refusing to look him in the eye.  
   
But Wufei’s eyes drifted down to Ron, who watched them both for a moment more, and then turned his head away.  
   
“I see,” Wufei said quietly, his eyes narrowing. “Right, then. Ron, can I speak to you a moment?”  
   
Anyone within earshot was surprised at that, but none more so than Ron and Harry. Harry looked terribly worried, and seemed about to protest. Ron, on the other hand, had snapped his head around, eyes widening a little.  
   
Noticing everyone’s eyes on him, he answered with the barest of nods and walked off, Wufei following him. Once they got outside, Wufei pulled him into the nearest empty alcove.  
   
“I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on,” the Chinese boy told him. “Personally, I think you’re being damned childish.”  
   
Ron rounded on him in anger. “Then you think I should just shrug off the fact that a Muggle I barely know is shagging my best friend, who, until this afternoon, I thought was straight?”  
   
“Of course not, but do you have any idea how much your opinion means to him? I don’t know what happened but whatever it was has hurt him, or can’t you see that? If you think you’re his best friend, then why don’t you act like it?”  
   
“How dare you! I’ve known Harry for six years, and then you come waltzing along all high and mighty. I earned his friendship. I’ve stood alongside him whenever he needed it!”  
   
“And now?”  
   
Unable to answer, Ron sat on the window sill, angrily rubbing at a colour-changing wad of dried, magical gum.  
   
“Are you going to carry on like this?” Wufei asked, finally, crossing his arms over his chest.  
   
“What do you expect of me? I’m only human! First Hermione and my sister, and now Harry? It’s… It’s too weird! I feel like I’ve been dropped into an alternate reality!”  
   
“What’s different? He’s exactly the same person you’ve always known!”  
   
“But I didn’t know about this.”  
   
“So what? It doesn’t change anything. Just because you didn’t know before doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. He’s never made a pass at you, or-“  
   
“That’s not the problem.”  
   
“Then, what is?”  
   
“I… I don’t know!”  
   
Wufei drew back and landed a solid punch to Ron’s cheek. “Wake up, Weasley. If you can’t put this petty immaturity aside, then Voldemort’s already won.” Ron flinched at the Dark Lord’s name, a hand held to his throbbing cheek. “Harry needs you beside him as much as anyone else. If you aren’t strong enough to do that, then as far as I’m concerned, six years have been truly wasted.”  
   
Ron rubbed his cheek. His hand fell to his lap as he stared at the floor. After a long period of silence, he sighed deeply, thought for a moment, and jumped down. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what came over me… I-I’ve been a right arse.”  
   
“Damn straight,” Wufei growled.  
   
Ron gave him a puzzled look for a moment, before cracking a grin. “That has to be the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” Then, he held out his hand, shaking Wufei’s firmly. “I should really go apologize. I hope he’ll forgive me after the way I acted.” He cast an apprehensive look towards the doors of the hall.  
   
“I don’t think there’ll be any problem with that,” Wufei told him, brushing past. “Although, he was the one shagging me,” he threw over his shoulder, thoroughly amused by the distinct reddening of Ron’s ears, and the shocked expression planted on his face.  
   
*  
   
Harry lay face down on the bed. After Wufei had left with Ron, he hadn’t been able to stand it any longer and had made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, heading straight for his dorm room. Neville was sitting in bed, reading.  
   
Flopping down on his bed, Harry ignored the other boy who had quietly asked how he was. Getting the hint, Neville apparently decided that reading in the common room was a much better idea and left Harry to his silent brooding.  
   
The dorm door eventually opened and Ron’s voice startled Harry out of his stupor. “You awake, Harry?” the boy asked, a little uncertainly. “Can we talk?” Still no answer, so he sat on the end of Harry’s bed. Glancing behind him, and hoping that he wasn’t talking to himself, Ron went on a little uncomfortably. As he talked, he began to fidget nervously. “I need to apologize. I acted like a real idiot today. I forgot about our friendship. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Ron slid to the floor, resting back against the mattress. “I think... I’ve been scared. You’re changing, Harry. But you’re still my best friend. Ever since this summer when you didn’t come to stay, we’ve been drifting apart. I wish you’d have told me earlier… I hope it doesn’t mean that you don’t trust me anymore. I… there’s so much resting on your shoulders, Harry. I want to be here for you. If that means accepting… certain circumstances, then I’m willing to do so. Please forgive me.”  
   
As the weight lifted off Harry’s bed, he continued to stare into the mattress. He knew that Ron was sincere but he couldn’t bring himself to speak right now. However, just as he felt himself begin to drift off, he mumbled. “You’ll always be my best friend, Ron.”  
   
*  
   
 _A man stood before them, but Hermione couldn’t recognize him. He may have been someone she knew, he may not. She did know that he was not an ally._  
  
 _Ginny growled beside her, low in her throat. Then, she transformed, baring her teeth and snarling. The man pointed his wand at her but she was too fast._  
  
 _Hermione screamed as the fox lunged. Its teeth sank viciously into the man’s throat, tearing away a chunk of flesh and spattering all of them in blood._  
  
 _A moment later, Ginny lay sobbing on the ground and moaned. “What have I done?”_  
   
   
“Hermione! Hermione, wake up!”  
   
Shaking uncontrollably, Hermione let Lavender help her to a sitting position. She realized that her face was soaked in tears, and her throat choked up.  
   
“Parvati, go get Madame Pomfrey,” Lavender urged.  
   
“No!” Hermione called, as the other girl went to the door. “It was just a nightmare. I’m okay.”  
   
“You don’t look okay to me,” Lavender told her, a concerned frown on her face.  
   
“It was just a nightmare,” Hermione repeated.  
   
It was, wasn’t it? Just a nightmare. Just like the ones she’d had of Harry, Ron, her parents, and everyone else she cared about. But this one had been so vivid. She could smell the copper blood; feel its slick wetness on her skin. She could hear Ginny’s mortified whisper ringing in her ears.  
   
Slowly, Parvati moved away from the door and came to sit next to Hermione. She softly stroked the prefect’s hair. “Get some sleep,” she said quietly.  
   
Lavender nodded. “Parvati’s right. Get some rest and you’ll feel much better in the morning.”  
   
Hermione forced a small smile and nodded. She was touched that the girls had rushed to her side so quickly. Still, as she lay down once more, she felt terrified of what her dreams may hold this time.  
   
*  
   
Harry’s happy self tearing into his room and jumping onto the bed awoke Wufei in the morning.  
   
“What the hell are you so happy about?” he grumbled, before receiving a very thorough kissing.  
   
“I don’t know what you said to Ron last night, but thank you.” Harry was positively beaming. “I’m so glad that I don’t have to hide it from them anymore. Finally, everything’s out in the open. Things are beginning to look up.”  
   
Wufei watched him bemusedly for a moment. It was a rare sight to see Harry so undeniably happy. The absence of tension in the boy was quite noticeable indeed. Unable to help himself, Wufei grinned, and coaxed another kiss from his love, who responded enthusiastically.  
   
“Care for a wake up bath?” Harry whispered sensually into his ear.  
   
“Do you plan on joining me?”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“Then I’d love one.”  
   
Stripping off clothes as they went, the two boys headed for Wufei’s bathroom. The large bath was soon steaming and just begging them to slide into it.  
   
Once they were settled, Wufei pulled Harry against him and proceeded to ‘wake up’. He figured it was the perfect time to experiment on his lover.  
   
*  
   
Ginny was very pleased to find that Ron and Harry had made up, and doubly so to see that Harry was practically glowing when he sat down to breakfast, Wufei trailing behind him with a smirk.  
   
“I don’t think I should ask why you two are so happy,” she whispered with a giggled.  
   
“Probably not,” Harry answered.  
   
However, both of them felt their good moods drop a little when they saw Hermione enter. She looked as though she hadn’t slept at all.  
   
“Morning,” she mumbled, grabbing a pitcher of orange juice and stifling a yawn.  
   
Harry raised his eyebrows at Lavender and Parvati who looked fairly worried at the girl’s appearance. Apparently, something had happened last night.  
   
“You okay, Hermione?” Ron asked.  
   
“Sure, I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”  
   
“Obviously,” Ginny observed dryly.  
   
“Geez, I’m fine, okay?” Hermione looked around at them all. “I had a nightmare. It’s no big deal.”  
   
Reluctantly, the others dropped the subject, but Ginny couldn’t help exchanging a worried glance with Harry. Something was definitely up and she intended to find out what.


	24. Chapter 24

After breakfast, Quatre had been approached by Professor Dumbledore. He’d been about to follow Heero out of the hall when the old wizard placed a hand on his shoulder. “I assume your final decision has been made?”

Quatre nodded, a grin instantly spreading across his face. “Yes, sir. It has.”

“And?”

“And… I’m staying.”

“Wonderful! Now that that’s sorted, would you mind following me so that we can sort out your schedule?” A flash of sunlight passed over Dumbledore’s half moon glasses, giving the impression that the man’s eyes themselves were twinkling. 

Nodding once, Quatre followed the headmaster into a room off from the Great Hall.

“I have with me this form,” Dumbledore announced, conjuring up a table and chairs and placing a piece of parchment in the middle. “Normally, students are left to their own devices to choose subjects but this is a special case. There are some classes you will not be able to take—at least, not yet—and others that you will need.”

Quatre scanned down the list and then looked up at the Headmaster. “What do you suggest that I take?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts is the first subject you must choose. You may not be able to participate in certain practical areas but it would give you an idea of what dangers are in our world and how we defend against them.”

Quatre nodded. “That makes sense.”

A quill materialized in Dumbledore’s hand, and he placed a tick next to DADA on the sheet.

“The other night you mentioned Divination,” Quatre suggested, pointing to a class near the bottom of the page.

“Ah, yes. Though not quite the same, foresight and empathy are both classed as ‘psychic gifts’. Another class you should take is Potions. Completely wandless work, but sixth year is only for advanced students. Perhaps Professor Snape would provide you with private tutelage.”

Smiling, Quatre looked up at the Headmaster. “I’m a fast learner.”

“I don’t doubt it, my boy.” Ticking Divinations and Potions, Dumbledore scanned the list once more.

Eventually, Arithmancy, Astrology, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic were added to the list.

“Your schedule will be a little different to other students. They have a lot of set subjects that you are unable to take but I think we’ve worked out the most beneficial time table for you.”

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I mean, thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Winner.” Dumbledore rolled up the parchment and swished his wand. A moment later, a small, odd looking creature appeared. It took the form and disappeared again. “Now, before you go, there is the matter of school supplies.”

“I have more than enough to pay for anything I’ll need, sir.”

“Wonderful. There is a Hogsmeade weekend this week, but I can arrange it so that you are escorted to Diagon Alley by a teacher. You may invite a small group along if you wish. I’m sure you would appreciate some young company.”

In thoroughly high spirits, Quatre made his way to his room, but he never reached it. Halfway there he ran into Harry who was on the way to class.

“Hey, Harry. I was just talking to Dumbledore. I need to get some things from Diagon Alley this weekend and he said I could take a small group with me. Would you and your friends like to come?”

“That would be awesome! A day in Diagon Alley, away from the rest of the students? How could I refuse?”

Quatre laughed. “Great. There’ll be a teacher along as well, and probably Duo and Trowa, too.”

“Sounds good to me.” Harry nodded and walked off, beaming. It seemed that he really did like the idea. Quatre was glad that he’d asked him.

When he finally got to the paintings, he rolled his eyes and said, “Duo is the greatest.” The small, blue figure snorted and swung the door open, allowing Quatre entrance. Before he went in, he made sure to call out a warning.

“Hey, Q! Come check out this cool stuff.” A feeling of unexplained dread overcoming him, Quatre made his way over to the table where Duo was messing with a device that appeared to tell the time.

It had a clock-like face but unlike any normal time-keeper, had seven hands and far more numbers than there should be. “Where on Earth did you find that?”

Duo’s grin made him worry even more. “In a room. At the end of… a secret passage,” the braided boy whispered ominously.

“I really don’t think you should touch these things, Duo. Who knows what they do? If they were hidden, then maybe they’re dangerous.” Watching apprehensively, Quatre noticed a distinct burn mark on the wooden desk.

“Well, that’s all the fun, isn’t it? Besides, I think most of them need to be run by magic, and since I don’t have any, how much harm can I do?”

Trowa, who was stretched out on the bed with a book, chuckled. “Don’t sound so depressed. I’m sure you can find some way to blow up the castle.”

“That’s not even remotely funny,” Quatre scolded, grimacing at a bladed object.

“Probably not, but did you want something?” Trowa asked with a smirk.

“Uh, right. I need to go to Diagon Alley this weekend. Harry and his friends are already coming, how about you guys?”

“Diagon Alley?” asked Duo half-heartedly.

“I think it’s a type of wizard’s shopping center or whatnot,” Quatre told him, his anxiousness forgotten for the growing excitement he felt.

Now interested, Duo looked up. “A magical mall? Hell yeah! I mean, we’re not going into Hogsmeade until next week. Why not do a little sightseeing?”

*

Earlier that day, Heero had received a note at the breakfast table from Professor Dumbledore. He’d been informed that Professor Snape would be happy to meet with him and provide a basic history of the wizarding world, answering any questions he may have.

Having glanced at the professor, Heero found it hard to believe the man was ‘happy’ to do anything. However, acquiring some rudimentary knowledge was a good start. Heero was rarely lost for a task to complete but until the meeting with Dumbledore, he had had no basis with which to plan to infiltrate Voldemort’s ranks. 

So, having traversed the dank stone passages of the dungeons, Heero finally reached the Potions classroom. He knocked briskly and opened the door at a muffled bid of entrance. 

“Professor Snape,” he greeted with a nod.

“Ah, Mr. Yuy. How odd that one of your generation should be so prompt,” the wizard replied, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Ignoring the veiled taunt about his age, Heero pulled the chair out and sat down. He waited for the professor to speak again.

“Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to instruct you in basic wizarding knowledge. He has a plan that will require you to know a great many things about our world if you wish to join the Death Eater ranks.” The last part was said very slowly with a look of haughty disdain.

“Shall we get on with it, then?” Heero asked, already bored with the man’s tactics. “Or perhaps, before we start, I should inform you that I can’t be baited like one of your students.”

Professor Snape’s face went carefully blank as he spent a moment in quiet surveillance. “Very well. We’ll start with currency…”

*

Harry couldn’t believe how perfect this opportunity was. A day in Diagon Alley might just be what they all needed. Whatever was wrong with Hermione, she needed to relax, far away from the student body. And, although he and Ron had made up, there still seemed to be some residual discomfort. Yes. They all needed to relax, and Diagon Alley was just the place.

When he reached Transfigurations, Harry found Ron and Hermione already outside the classroom. He almost blurted out their good fortune but then remembered that it would be best to keep it quiet from the other students. So, he waited for a chance, which came whilst they were attempting to transfigure toadstools into live ladybugs. 

“I have good news,” he whispered happily.

“What is it?” Ron asked, giving up on his toadstool for the moment.

“Keep working, I don’t want anyone else to hear.”

“What are you up to, Harry?” Hermione looked suspiciously at him for a moment.

“I’m not up to anything. I ran into Quatre on the way here and he invited us to Diagon Alley instead of Hogsmeade. He said he needed to get some school supplies and that Dumbledore had given him permission to go to Diagon Alley with a small group and a teacher.” He took a break to tap his toadstool twice, swish his wand, and mutter the spell. “Isn’t that great?” he said as an oddly spotted ladybug appeared on his desk.

“That’s wonderful!” Hermione answered, a little too loudly. Quickly she tried to cover. “You did it before I did. Although… I thought they were meant to have black spots… not white. I don’t think your swish was-”

At Harry’s glare, she stopped abruptly and returned to transfiguring her own toadstool which, a moment later, was a pretty little lady bug crawling up her wand.

“Show-off,” Ron muttered, earning a smug smile from Hermione who was well used to his taunts. “So, we’re going to Diagon Alley with those Muggles, eh?”

“Quatre isn’t a Muggle,” Hermione reminded him. “Although I suppose the other three will come along as well.”

“I don’t trust them,” the redhead insisted stubbornly.

“Well, I do,” Harry replied, then tried the spell again, the white spots fading slowly to black.

“Of course you do. You’re shagging one of them.” Although he sounded distinctly indignant, the tips of Ron’s ears had gone furiously red and he examined his toad stool quite enthusiastically.

In spite of himself, Harry grinned. That was the first time Ron had mentioned his relationship with Wufei since their argument the other night. “Well, naturally, but I really do trust them.”

“So do I,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “They all seem so… sincere.”

Ron snorted. “What about that Duo bloke?”

“I admit he’s a little… excitable, but I think there’s much more to him than meets the eye,” answered Hermione, extending her finger for her lady bug to climb onto. “The same goes for all of them.” 

“Well done Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, too. Your turn, Mr. Weasley.” Professor McGonagall had appeared before them.

“Uh, right,” Ron muttered. He stared at his toad stool for a moment as though willing it to co-operate. He then performed the spell. Once the puff of smoke cleared, a small mushroom with beady eyes and desperately fluttering wings sat before them.

“Keep trying, Mr. Weasley. I’ll check on you again at the end of the lesson.”

Once she’d gone, Ron groaned, and glared at the little mushroom as though it was entirely at fault.

*

That night, as they all sat around in the common room, Harry couldn’t help but think it had been a surprisingly good day. The prospect of going to Diagon Alley had added to the brilliant mood he’d woken up with, and as the day progressed, Hermione had seemed much better. Harry was even enjoying writing an essay for Professor McGonagall on the transfiguration of live creatures and whether they should be considered ‘alive’. 

In the background, Parvati had charmed a jewellery box to play music. She’d heard about Muggle music boxes and thought it would be a lovely present for her sister on their birthday. Harry was convinced that nothing could ruin his mood.

Just as he finished the essay, a medium sized barn owl flew in through the tower window. It dropped a letter right in front of his nose. Perplexed, Harry wondered who it was from. The owl was one of the school’s.

Opening it, he read: Your punishment has been revised. I expect to see you arrive promptly for your next Potions lesson and stay behind after class to arrange a month’s worth of detention. Professor S. Snape.

Letting out a happy ‘whoop’, Harry grinned at Hermione who’d read it over his shoulder.

“I wonder what made him change his mind.” Hermione frowned.

“I forgot! Lupin told me that he isn’t allowed to kick me out! I’m not exactly looking forward to a month’s worth of detentions but at least I’ll still be eligible to become an Auror. Assuming I manage to pass, that is.” Harry grinned, despite the punishment that he would undoubtedly regret when the time came.

“Brilliant, Harry!” Hermione beamed at him and took his essay to read over. She made a few minor corrections and handed it back to him. “That’s a good job, you know.”

“I guess homework is easier when you’re in a good mood.” 

A moment after he’d said this, a creak sounded from the entrance to the Tower and Wufei came through the portrait hole. He was carrying several books which suggested that he’d been in the Library. He shuffled them around and waved to Harry, coming over to sit on the ground by the fire.

“Oh, what’s that you’ve got?” Hermione asked, taking one of the books from his hands. “Hogwarts a History! It’s a wonderful book; I’ve read it several times!”

“Yes, and you never shut up about it,” Harry moaned, winking at Wufei who chuckled.

“I thought I’d do a little reading. I’ve learned a fair bit from Molly and Arthur but, well, with… one thing and another, there’s not such a thing as too much knowledge.” Wufei opened one of the other books entitled The Darkest of the Dark.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, leaning down to have a look. 

Wufei grinned at him. “It’s all about Lord Voldemort.” Instantly, the surrounding chatter dulled. Wondering what he’d said, Wufei looked around.

Hermione grit her teeth, ignored the soft mutterings, and focused on the book. “Oh, I’ve read that one. At least half of it is focused on you, Harry. Mostly speculation on how you ‘defeated’ V-Voldemort.” Soft mutterings flared up around them.

“Oh, don’t go reading that rubbish!” Harry had turned slightly pink. “They probably say I bashed Voldemort over the head with a magical rattle or some other rot.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Hermione snapped at a third year who had gone pale. “You know, I think it’s about time to address this.” Standing, she looked around pointedly until all the segregated groups in the common room stopped to look at her one by one. “Listen up. I have something important to say!” Parvati’s music box stopped playing.

“Hermione, what are you doing?” Harry whispered frantically, but Wufei covered his hand and shook his head, watching her.

“This has been left far too late. I’ve been waiting for the Daily Prophet to report something, or for the Ministry of Magic to make a statement, but so far it hasn’t happened and winter is fast approaching. So, here goes: Last year, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and myself were in the ministry of magic. The very same night that Voldemort’s return was confirmed!”

Everyone instantly began to chatter and whisper, looking at Hermione as if she was mad.

“Is there anyone here who still refuses to believe this?” Hermione called, looking around at all the faces of watching Gryffindors. The whispers stopped. No-one spoke. “Then it’s about time you faced the truth. Voldemort is back, so get used to it, and the name. Being afraid is all well and good. I’m afraid that he’s going to make a move soon, and no one will be prepared. I’m afraid that we’ll be caught off guard. I’m afraid that people I love and care about are going to go missing or—or be killed. But to be afraid of his name is only going to give him more power, because as awful as it is, VOLDEMORT is BACK!”

Everyone was dead silent. The whole room was focused on Hermione, who—after her bold statement—had gone very pink. Then, slowly, many people began to shuffle off, up to their dormitories. Hermione backed into her seat, collapsing into it. She looked at Harry, a little paler than usual. “I-”

Harry looked at her grimly. “It’s no use, Hermione. They’re in denial. No-one wants to believe that he’s back. So they pretend that he’s not. I don’t think we can change anybody’s minds.” 

However, a seventh year girl approached them slowly. “I-” she began, licking her lips and staring at her feet. “Maybe, maybe you’re right. I-I mean, I believe that he’s… V-v-Vold-d-demort… is back, but everything’s so quiet, so normal. It doesn’t feel like—like he is,” the girl whispered finally.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Hermione answered tiredly. “That’s what he wants. He wants to lull us all into a false sense of security, and we’ve been letting him.”

“But what can we do?” the girl asked, looking from Hermione to Harry.

“There isn’t much that we can do,” Harry answered for Hermione who, for once, was dumbstruck. “But, if we know, if we’re aware, then at least we can’t be caught by surprise.”

She nodded, still a little nervously. “I’m Layla French, by the way.” Then, she walked away as quickly as possible, blushing.

“Hermione,” Ron cried as he reached them. “Nice speech!”

“Uh, thanks…”

He turned to watch the girl for a moment, who was whispering animatedly with a friend. “You know, Hermione, you’re right. It’s a bit odd that the Daily Prophet hasn’t reported anything about what happened last year since the immediate aftermath.”

“I think… I think they’re trying not to alarm people, but that’s wrong. If the wizarding community doesn’t believe that he’s back, they’ll be easy targets. I was dead serious. I’m afraid of what will happen. I do think Voldemort is trying to lure us all into a false sense of security. That way, when he does strike, it will cause so much more damage.” Hermione stared into the fire.

“So that’s what’s been bothering you?” Ginny asked in a quiet voice, startling them all except for Wufei who had heard her approach.

Although her answer was sure, there was just a beat too long before Hermione spoke. “Yes.”

“You should have said something,” Ron told her, frowning. “It’s not good to keep things bottled up like that.”

“I know, but I felt sure that something would be reported soon, that the Ministry would have to do something. I hope they come to their senses,” she whispered. “It’s only a matter of time before all the horror starts all over again.”

*

Eventually, the common room cleared out. Hermione had gone up to bed rather early, Ginny leaving soon after. Once Ron had left, Dennis Creevey and a couple of his friends went over to Harry to say good night and re-affirm their support. Soon, he and Wufei were left alone.

Having procured the other comfortable arm chair some time ago, Wufei had been reading. Harry had finished a small worksheet for charms and was onto reading a chapter for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Finally, he let out a long yawn. “I think I’ll finish this tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve gotten a fair bit done.”

“You have,” Wufei agreed. “More than you need to, if you ask me.”

“Well, I had to. Ever since Ron became Quiditch Captain he’s been calling practice sessions religiously. We have one tomorrow night, so I need to get Thursday’s work done,” Harry told him, packing away his ink, quill, and books. “I can’t blame him, though. With so many new team members to train up, we need the extra practice. He’s done a good job. I’ve known him for over five years and I was still surprised by his knowledge of Quiditch. I knew he liked it, but…”

They were making their way up the stair case, Harry yawning again. He paused outside his dorm room door. “Would you mind if I slept up with you, tonight?” he asked. 

“Not at all.” Wufei took his hand, smiling, and led him up another couple of flights of stairs.

Harry placed his things in a corner and pulled off his robes, shirt, and pants. Clad only in boxers, he joined Wufei on the bed. A long and languid kiss later, and he was curled up in his boyfriend’s arms.

An owl hooted, the wind rustled through trees, Wufei’s chest rose and fell beneath him. He was happy. Very happy. In fact, he was ecstatic. Lucius knelt before him, bent on one knee, his scarred face showing beneath his hood. Harry laughed, a hiss of mirth escaping his lips. 

“Muggles? Dumbledore’s Muggles have arrived to protect Harry Potter? And that fool Khushrenada actually believes they will be a threat! How amusing this is. Am I so underestimated? Ah, but all the better for my plans, isn’t it?” Harry’s voice suddenly turned hard. “Your son, Lucius; have him report all he can of these… Muggles.” This time, the word was spat with disdain. “It should prove to be… entertaining.”

A cold laugh issued from beside him and Harry turned to see the cackling form of Bellatrix Lestrange… Sirius’ murderer.

Scowling, Lucius Malfoy nodded his head sharply. “I will, inform him, my lord.”

“Don’t seem too pleased, Lucius,” Harry hissed in what would have been a sarcastic tone but for the chill of his demeanor. “Perhaps you need your spirits dampened… Crucio!”

As Malfoy writhed on the floor, Harry laughed, but at the same time, he stared in horror. No… Voldemort was still laughing… It was Harry who remembered the blinding pain surging through his body… Harry who jerked awake.

He was covered in a cold sweat and tried to jerk forward but Wufei’s arms tightened around him. Not realizing where he was, Harry struggled.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” his lover crooned. “Calm down.”

Going suddenly limp, Harry drew in a deep, shaky breath. “He knows! Voldemort knows! He knows that there are Muggles here. He wants Draco to spy for him!”

“What? Harry, what are you talking about?” Wufei slid out from under him so that they could face each other. “What do you mean?”

“I have a connection with Voldemort, through my scar. Sometimes it stings painfully and I can feel what he’s feeling… but other times, I have dreams. I see him, or, I see through him. I haven’t dreamed like that for ages. Not since… Last year, he used it. It’s how… I saw Sirius, but… But he wasn’t… I-” Harry had become choked, tears of regret, anger, fear, and loss had welled to the surface, rendering him silent as he tried to fight them down.

Wufei pulled Harry against his chest and after several, dry, muffled sobs, Harry began to breathe normally again. 

“Do you think he was controlling this one?” Wufei asked in a soft, soothing voice, disregarding Harry’s brief relapse.

“No,” Harry answered quietly after a long, thoughtful pause. “No, I don’t think he was. He’d have nothing to gain by letting me know he knows about you five.”

“Good. Does he know you were there?”

“I don’t know.” Harry leaned heavily against Wufei’s chest. “I don’t know… I have to see Dumbledore. I need to start occlumency again. I should have started it right away; I don’t know why I didn’t! Why hasn’t he mentioned it? I-” 

“Hey, calm down!”

“No, you don’t understand! He’ll use you against me! Make me think that you’re-”

“He can’t make you think anything because I’m not going anywhere! Trust me, Harry. I’m going to stay by your side every second I can.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, finally nodding slowly. “I’m sorry. I panicked. I just-”

“It’s okay, I understand. You don’t want to make the same mistake.” Twining his fingers with Harry’s, Wufei lay down again, pulling Harry with him. “Sleep now and we’ll talk about this in the morning when you’re thinking clearly.”

“Right,” Harry whispered. But as he laid his head next to Wufei’s, Lucius Malfoy’s raspy cries rang in his ears.


	25. Chapter 25

Blinking his eyes open, Harry realized that daylight hadn’t broken yet. He frowned, wondering what the time was. After all, he’d gotten to bed very late and had no idea how long he’d been dreaming before waking up the first time.

Carefully getting out of bed, he walked over to the window and looked out. There was a line of pale dawn, far on the horizon. It must have been very early but there was no way he was getting back to sleep. Harry was awake for good now.

As he stood in front of the open window, he shivered, the rapidly cooling winter air freezing his flesh. But that wasn’t all. A shudder ripped through him, not only from the cold but from a bundle of emotions. Fear, anger, disgust… He shuddered again.

Somewhere out there, Voldemort was plotting Harry’s death and the downfall of all things Muggle. Somewhere, Lucius Malfoy was hiding from the Ministry; his ruined face was probably twisted in a grimace. 

Absently, a part of Harry admired the man. He’d taken the Cruciatus curse very well. Though, as a Death Eater, he was probably used to it.

No… Harry couldn’t imagine ever becoming used to the Cruciatus curse. He couldn’t imagine learning to ignore pain so great that death seemed preferable.

As he shuddered again, Wufei’s arms wrapped around him. “You’ll catch a chill.”

“I was just thinking,” said Harry, still staring blankly out the window. “Wufei… What Hermione said last night… She isn’t the only one.” Leaning back against his lover, Harry continued to watch the thin line of gold rise a little, followed by a stretch of blood red. “I’m afraid.” Wufei said nothing, just held him. “Dumbledore told me why Voldemort wants me dead. A prophecy says that one of us is destined to kill the other. One of us must die… and I don’t think it will be him. I can’t beat him. It’s just a matter of waiting until the final showdown. Dumbledore must know it. One of us must die, and how am I, a 16 year old student, supposed to kill the most powerful dark wizard of the century. I… I just wish I could be a normal guy. I wish I could be Seamus Finnegan in blissful denial. I wish… I don’t know. Right now, I feel like… like any day could be my last.” He fell quiet for a long moment. “Whatever happens, knowing that I met you, that I found you… it makes everything worthwhile. I love you.”

Wufei still didn’t speak but rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder. The Gryffindor was surprised to feel several tears splash onto his skin. They stood there for some time, watching the sun rise, and, without another word, headed down into the common room once the last remnant of night had vanished.

*

When Hermione stumbled blearily down the stairs in the morning, she was surprised to find Harry, Wufei, and Ginny sitting in a corner of the common room, the only people still hanging around.

Concerned, she made her way over to them. “What’s going on?”

“Ron will be here in a moment and then I’ll explain,” Harry told her tiredly. He looked as though he’d gotten less sleep than she had.

Seating herself on the floor, Hermione watched the boy’s staircase for Ron. Soon, he appeared, dressed for the day, but with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. “What’s up?” he mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“I had a dream last night,” Harry began.

“So?”

“Oh, no… Was it one of those dreams?” Hermione asked, her mind clicking into gear. She tried very hard to ignore the memories of her own nightmares. “What happened?”

Harry related his dream to them, shuddering again when he reached the part involving the Cruciatus curse. “Lucius Malfoy looked awful,” he said quietly. “His face was a mess.”

“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him!” Ron exclaimed.

Hermione shot a glare at him. Several first years were climbing out through the portrait hole. 

“Of course not. I’m just tired of… of grudges. I don’t feel sorry for him but I do pity him.” Harry stared coldly at the ground, his arms wrapped around himself.

“You should go to Dumbledore about Occlumency,” Ron suggested.

“I know.” Though he said it, Harry did not want to. A little of his old anguish flared inside of him and he felt as though Dumbledore had betrayed him.

“It’s no use,” Ginny muttered. “I wanted to speak to him the other day but Professor McGonagall said he was far too busy. She said he isn’t even in the school half of the time these days.”

“He’d make time for you, Harry,” insisted Ron, frowning.

“I shouldn’t bother him. I have to see Snape after class today, anyway. I’ll ask him directly.” Though a sour look had passed across Harry’s face, he tried to mask it by squaring his shoulders. 

“He couldn’t refuse.” Hermione wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince Harry or herself. “This is too important.”

“He won’t refuse,” Harry told her. “He’ll just make me absolutely miserable for asking. It’s worth it, though.” Harry looked around at them all. “I won’t risk endangering anyone else.”

Hermione wanted so badly to hug him at that moment but she held back. “Harry… You know it isn’t your fault…”

Harry didn’t answer; he went back to staring at the ground. A silence fell over the group. Everyone was caught up in their own thoughts.

Unbidden, Hermione’s latest nightmare flashed before her eyes and she tried to push it away, automatically drawing Ginny against her. She was beginning to get a little paranoid. Her dreams were so vivid. Night after night she saw horrible things happening to her friends. She saw them die, she saw them tortured, and she saw them broken and derelict. It frightened her beyond belief, because she knew that these things were all possible and even likely. With Voldemort’s return, nothing was certain. 

“You know, I’ve been so pre-occupied this year that I never noticed how quiet Dumbledore’s been,” Harry said softly, bringing all of them back to reality. “I haven’t really seen him since… since last year. I don’t know why I didn’t notice earlier. I suppose with Sirius and… other things to distract me, it didn’t even occur to me that what happened at the Ministry has been completely covered up. It’s like that dream brought me back to reality, like I’ve been hiding from the truth for as long as I could manage.” Harry’s eyes were unfocused and he was staring at some distant spot a million miles away. “What am I going to do?” he asked no-one in particular, looking up.

Hermione was sure that not even Harry knew exactly what his question had been referring to. Suddenly she felt a terrible jolt in her chest as though, in that moment, she too had been dragged from a hiding spot. So far, they’d all felt the effects of Sirius’ death and faced the fact that Voldemort was back, but none of them had acknowledged it. Their sojourn into the Department of Mysteries last year was a terrible memory, yes, but they’d treated it as no more than that. A simple memory, not an event that was sure to reap consequences sooner or later.

“Let’s go down for breakfast, okay?” Ginny said hopefully, attempting a cheery voice to break the silence.

Though none of them had much of an appetite and they all knew it, they eac smiled, just a little. 

“Sure,” Harry agreed, pushing himself to his feet. 

As Hermione watched, he held out a hand for Wufei, then one for Ron, helping them both up off the floor. She was sure that the smile on his face couldn’t have looked more false if it was painted.

As a group, they headed down to the Great Hall.

*

The lesson had been miserable. As expected, Snape had taken every possible opportunity to taunt Harry in every which way. By the end of the lesson, he was about ready to drop the idea of resuming Occlumency entirely. Then, the thought of his friends came to mind, and Harry felt himself deflate. No matter how much of a bastard Snape was going to be, he had to swallow his pride this once.

As the rest of the class exited, Harry approached the Potions Master’s desk. “Profe-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Potter. You will arrive sharply at 8pm twice a week on Tuesday and Thursday nights—unless I specify differently—for the equivalent of a month. We will begin next week, and resume after the Christmas Holidays-”

“Done, but I have something more important to ask you.” Snape narrowed his eyes. “Sir… Please, don’t say no just for the sake of it. This… this is important. I-”

“Get on with it, Potter.”

“I want to take Occlumency lessons again.”

Snape was silent for a very long moment, making Harry shift under his gaze. “You’ve had another vision?”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry answered quietly.

“Well?” Without further prompting, Harry told his dream once again.

“I see…” A malicious grin spread across Snape’s face. “Decided to take things seriously now, have you? Come crawling back. I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Potter, but-”

“Please!” Harry pleaded desperately. “I don’t want to lose any more of my friends!” Again, he felt tears in his eyes, tears of frustration. Snape just had to agree! How could he not? He’d be putting people other than Harry in danger. “You must think it’s a right laugh! Sirius being dead and all! I’ll bet you’re ecstatic that it’s my fault!”

For a brief moment, Snape looked shocked, and then a look of fury swept across his features. “Dry your eyes, Potter,” Snape snarled. “If only your adoring fans could see you now, weak and pathetic.” The Potions Master stood, gathering papers. “We will resume Occlumency lessons but if you ever lose your temper with me again…” The sentence trailed off, sending a shiver up Harry’s spine. “After each detention will be an hour of Occlumency. Now get out before I change my mind.”

Humiliated, infuriated, pale and shaking, Harry made his way from the room, collapsing against a wall when he was out of the way. He took several long, slow, deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He hadn’t expected that to go well at all, but it had been far worse than he’d imagined. 

*

Zechs had been surprised to say the least when the five teenagers approached him at lunch. Quatre, the blond one, had acted as spokesman.

“We figured you’d be the most likely to know, apart from Dumbledore, but can you think of somewhere we’d be able to test our guns?”

Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Guns might not work in the wizarding world. He didn’t know of anyone who’d ever tried. “That depends. Mind if I come along?”

“Why not? The more the merrier,” the same boy replied, although a couple of the others shot him glares.

“Then follow me,” Zechs told them, leading the way to the Room of Requirement. As they went, he explained that he knew of the perfect room where Harry had held DA meetings last year. Walking back and forth in front of it three times, he imagined silencing seals around the door, ear muffs and targets inside, and a little obstacle course. He was interested in seeing just how good these boys were first hand. Pushing open the door, he beckoned them all inside. “Welcome to training heaven.”

“Woah! Where did all this come from?!” Duo exclaimed.

“This is the Room of Requirement. Walk in front of it three times imagining whatever it is you need and it will appear.”

“I have got to try that!” Duo made to walk out but Trowa, the tallest one, grabbed the neck of his robes. (They had all taken to dressing in wizarding attire, except for the Chinese boy who was already known as a Muggle within the school.)

Heero Yuy—a.k.a. Grim Face—pulled out his gun right away. He aimed at a target and shot the bull’s-eye, right in the middle of the dummy’s forehead.

Everyone winced, the sound of the shot reverberating off the walls and ringing in their ears.

“That’s why we have ear muffs,” Zechs pointed out, indicating a table to their left.

“Whatever. I’ve done what I came for.” Heero’s gun disappeared back to the nothingness it came from. 

Duo heaved a sigh. “Well, that was rather boring… We came all this way, can’t we at least fire off a few rounds? My trigger finger is itchy.” This last was shot at Zechs.

“How about a demonstration?” Zechs asked, nodding towards the area he’d imagined especially. There were pop-up targets everywhere.

“I bet you’d just love that,” Duo muttered in a low voice, though it was clearly audible. 

“I just want to see what I’ve been fighting against all these years.”

“So you can run back to your boss with juicy tendrils of gossip?”

“No, so I can figure out whether you’re any use, or if my men were just clumsy.”

“If they were it’s because they were trained badly. What kind of idiot would send people out to die?”

“Now listen here-”

“ENOUGH!”

Both of them froze, inches apart. Quatre was glaring at them, his arms spread wide. “Duo, if Dumbledore trusts him, then we should, too.”

Icily, Duo turned back to Zechs. “You don’t understand, Quatre…” There was a long pause. Then… “He killed Meiran. Personally.”

Zechs’ mouth dropped open. His mind slowly turned back several years. Meiran. That had to be the girl… The one he’d been ordered to torture and kill.

“What?” Wufei asked sharply, going pale. 

“Your little lap boy, Otto, let it slip.” Otto? Duo… had been the one to kill him… for revenge?

“Duo,” Heero said warningly. “Stop. It doesn’t matter now.”

“The hell it doesn’t! He-”

“Did his job and we did ours.”

“But-”

“Duo, stop it.” This time Wufei pitched in. Zechs turned to look at him. The Chinese boy was glaring at both of them. 

“Wufei, you of all people should-”

He cut himself off. Wufei was shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. That was then and this is now. Zechs—Milliardo—is on our side this time. He’s a different person. We all deserve the chance to change. Just let it go. Please. Right now, there are more important things than revenge and anger.”

Duo sniffed haughtily. “Got anything to say?” he aimed back at Zechs.

He had hoped that putting aside their differences would be much easier, but apparently not. Zechs looked Duo straight in the eyes. “Don’t expect me to apologize. I’m trying to make up for past mistakes but I refuse to ask forgiveness for my actions. Before you try to shoot me, though… I was ordered to torture and kill a girl, but I wouldn’t do it. So Treize sent someone else. I’m not a cold blooded murderer, no matter what you may think.”

“A likely story.” If looks could kill…

“Duo,” Trowa sighed exasperatedly. “That’s enough, just drop it. There’s no point in holding petty grudges.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Zechs said curtly, “I have a class to teach soon.” He turned and walked out the door, planning to pay Lupin a quick visit. Despite his tough exterior, he felt his knees shaking and his heart thudded in his chest. He hadn’t killed Meiran but there were plenty of others with friends and family who had loved them; plenty of blood stained his hands. Suddenly it seemed to weigh him down. Perhaps he could never redeem himself… Perhaps he’d sunk too far… It didn’t matter. He would still do all he could to protect his world and Harry Potter—and those five boys, too, if he could manage it.

*

Heero had left the others not long ago what with Duo still acting quite sullen, Quatre getting a little annoyed. Wufei had given up several hours ago and had probably disappeared up Gryffindor Tower. 

Now, Heero waited in the Headmaster’s office, looking around with veiled interest. His eyes came to rest on the same bird that had burst into flames a few nights ago. Now, there were several promising patches of scarlet and golden plumage covering the leathery skin. 

The bird stared back at him, its head cocked to the side. It opened its mouth and Heero was expecting a feeble chirp but instead, a beautiful, heartening melody issued forth. Instantly, Heero felt uplifted, something he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at the bird in wonder, amazed that such a greeting had come from this seemingly weak animal.

It jumped from the perch and flew awkwardly towards him, its wings almost fully covered in feathers. Settling on the arm of his chair, it bowed its head. Bemused, Heero laid a hand on the crown of its head, scratching around the few feathers there.

“It seems that you have made a friend,” Dumbledore’s warm voice informed him. “Fawks is not easily impressed but tonight, you have found in him an ally.”

Sparing one last smile for the phoenix, Heero turned his eyes to Dumbledore. “Headmaster,” he said, inclining his head.

Dumbledore walked around his desk and seated himself in the high backed chair on the other side. For a moment, the old wizard surveyed Heero over the tips of his fingers, and then he placed them down on the desk. “Down to business, then? My proposal is this: That you are presented to Lord Voldemort as a squib. I assume you know what this means.” Heero nodded. “Good, good. Now, I believe that he already knows of the presence of Muggles here in Hogwarts. Therefore, convincing him of your loyalty and identity will not be an easy task. I have devised a cover story that you may wish to employ but you will need to work with Severus to pull it off.”

“What is your plan?” Heero asked, trusting Dumbledore’s wisdom for the time being.

“This weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, during which Severus is scheduled to meet a Death Eater in the Hogs Head tavern. If you were to position yourself there before Saturday and manage to be close by during the meeting, afterwards, it would be easy to strike up a conversation with Severus. That way, there would be witnesses to your story should Voldemort wish to confirm. Your hatred of Muggle-born’s would naturally crop up in the conversation as you blame your father for your lack of magic. Severus, distrusting Treize Khushrenada, presents you to Voldemort as the perfect spy.”

Heero listened silently. The plan seemed good, but there was only one problem. “How would I convince Voldemort that I’m not spying on him? Wouldn’t this plan put your man in danger?”

“Severus is constantly in danger, and so will you be. I’m afraid that I cannot guess what tests he would set for you, but I can warn you. Voldemort is fond of pain and not afraid to kill without a heartbeat’s hesitation. If he doesn’t believe you, he will probably kill you instantly.”

“I know that,” Heero replied gruffly.

Dumbledore sighed. “I cannot willingly send you into this without first expressing my grave doubt. To convince Voldemort will no doubt be painful to your body and your soul, and if you do manage that, there is no telling what he will ask you to do. If it were up to me-”

“I’m prepared to do what I must, Professor Dumbledore. I’ve been trained to risk my life. I’m not afraid of pain or death, especially not if I can help save this world.” Heero felt vaguely numb. He knew that those words had been lies. He was very much afraid, but he would still face those fears.

“You are a brave young man, Mr. Yuy. Perhaps, if I had been as brave as you, I could have stopped Voldemort a long time ago when he was still Tom Riddle.” A sad look coming to his eyes, Dumbledore seemed to stare through Heero’s eyes into his soul. “Is the proposal satisfactory?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. I will arrange transportation for you on Friday ni-”

“I would prefer to leave as early as possible, sir. Tonight, if it can be done.” Heero didn’t want to wait around. If he got to the tavern earlier he could get a feel for the surroundings and make sure he was seen.

Dumbledore frowned but he didn’t argue. “Of course, Mr. Yuy. I will arrange for it. Gather together what you wish to take but remember that you are no longer a Muggle, but a squib.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Heero inclined his head again, laid his hand to the phoenix’s head once more, and then departed. 

*

Dumbledore watched the youth leave, not startled when Severus’ voice drifted down from the room above his office. “Are you sure about this, Headmaster? He’s only a boy.”

“He is no more a boy than you are, Severus. However, I am more worried about this than anything else. He seemed quite anxious to leave here as soon as possible. I had expected him to savour what time he could spare with his friends. It is not healthy for anyone to cut themselves off so effectively.”

“Is that a hint?” Snape asked dryly.

“Take it how you like, Severus.” 

*

Harry sat in the Gryffindor locker room. He felt partly miserable but also quite enraged. The whole day had been overshadowed by his meeting with Snape. He hadn’t seen any of the others since Hermione left Potions so he’d made his way down to the showers early. It had been a long day and he’d felt that a nice, long, hot shower was just what he needed before training. Having towelled off and pulled on some Muggle clothes to practice in, he was waiting for the rest of the team to show up.

Finally, Andrew Kirk sidled in. He had been one of the replacement beaters last year when Fred and George were banned. 

“Heya, Harry,” he said with a little wave.

“Hi,” Harry answered.

“Hey, Harry!” The shout drew his attention back to the doorway. “What the hell did you say to Snape?” Ginny demanded. “He was absolutely ROTTEN during Potions this afternoon. I know you saw him before lunch, so what did you do?”

“Oh, the usual. I think what really pissed him off was when I breathed. He hates that because it reminds him that I’m alive.”

Ginny puffed out a breath, no doubt amused but far too indignant to show it. “He took at least a hundred points from Gryffindor by the end of the class.”

Harry groaned. How typical of Snape to take out his anger on a troupe of unsuspecting Gryffindors. They would really have to work hard to earn those points back if they wanted to win the cup again. By the time Christmas Holidays passed, teachers got lazy with handing out house points. “Sorry, Gin. I kind of lost my temper with him. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Oh, Snape, how I could hex thee, let me count the ways. Though art as foul as stink-cap on a summer’s day…”

In spite of himself, Harry chuckled. “Shakespeare? Let me guess, Hermione?”

Grinning, Ginny pulled her shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail. “Of course. She lent me a book of his most famous works. He certainly knew a lot about fairies and magic, that man. There was a lot of accurate spell work in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Even Macbeth was fairly on the trot. I wonder if he knew any wizards.”

“Who?” asked Ron, having just arrived with Seamus, the other beater, and Dennis Creevey, one of the new chasers.

“William Shakespeare,” Harry told him.

“That Muggle playwright?” Seamus asked.

Dennis nodded. “My mother once told me that his brother was a Muggle-born wizard.”

When Lavender Brown, the last chaser, finally showed up, they made their way out onto the pitch.

By the time they got outside it was spitting; random droplets of rain falling around them. Just to be sure, Harry took off his glasses, tapped them, and muttered, “Impervious.”

The session kicked off with some drills, passing the Quaffle back and forth on the spot to get warmed up. Then, they continued the exercise whilst flying about. Andrew and Seamus used their beater’s bats to hit it to their team mates, working on aim. Lavender only dropped the Quaffle once, and, although it once hit Dennis squarely in the face after a solid whack from Seamus, they all managed to dodge and catch most of the two beaters’ passes.

When Ron let the snitch out, the rain decided to kick it up a notch, driving down in a sheet and making it almost impossible to see through. Ron, always the optimist when it came to Quiditch, pointed out that it was good practice for foul-weather games. Harry, on the other hand, thought it was good practice for catching a cold. He searched around half-heartedly, wishing he was up in the warm tower with a steaming cup of hot cocoa.

That was when he noticed two figures in the distance heading towards Hagrid’s hut. One had a sack slung over his shoulder.

Pulling up beside Ginny, he pointed them out. She looked around, squinting through the moisture on her lashes. “One of them is definitely Snape. I think the other might be… Heero… I think he’s leaving… Look! Hagrid’s leading him to the edge of the forest. What’s he—Harry, is that a Thestral?”

Harry squinted, too; then turned to Ginny, shocked. “You see it?”

“Yeah… Since second year…”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Last year, when-”

Ginny just shrugged, looking sheepish and depressed. Harry looked into her eyes for a moment, and then forced his attention back to Heero.

“Oi! What are you two doing?” Ron called, zooming down towards them.

“Wait a second, Ron, I think Heero’s leaving… Hey, remember what he said the other day?” Harry turned back to Ginny. “He said that he would continue on his ‘mission’, but he never said what that was. We know that Snape is spying on Voldemort… Do you think-?”

“I hope not,” Ginny whispered, an uncomfortable expression on her face. 

“Surely not.” Looking entirely sceptical, Ron pulled up in front of them. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let a kid go join You Know Who. Come on, back to training.”

As he shared an exasperated glance with Ginny, Harry went into a dive and began to search for the snitch again. Though, as he looked around, he couldn’t help wondering… He wasn’t so sure that anyone could class Heero as a kid, and considering the sorts of things Dumbledore had let Harry himself get up to, well, it wasn’t very reassuring. He’d have to mention what he’d seen to Wufei.

Catching a dull glint near the Ravenclaw stands, Harry put on a burst of speed, keen to get this awful training session over with. He wanted to be dry. Warm, and dry.


	26. Chapter 26

Thursday and Friday had to have been the most miserable days of the year. The rain was pouring constantly, and storms randomly crashed and banged. The magical ceiling of the Great Hall gave the effect that they were in the eye of a cyclone, the only place safe from the fierce winds and booming lightning. 

At a compulsory dinner on Friday night, many of the first years were huddled together, jumping with every lightning strike. The noise was so loud that, at first, Dumbledore’s address went un-noticed—until he cast a magnifying charm on his voice.

“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE?”

Almost instantly, the riotous chatter halted, all eyes turned toward the Headmaster. They’d all been called to a school dinner, but no-one knew why and now they expected to find out.

“I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN SEVERAL CENTURIES, HOGWARTS HAS ACCEPTED A LATE BEGINNER! LET US GIVE A VERY WARM HOGWARTS WELCOME TO QUATRE RABERBA WINNER, WHO WILL ENTER IN THE SIXTH YEAR!” 

He gestured to Quatre, who had been sitting with Duo and Trowa at the staff table and was now standing.

Any applause was thoroughly drowned out by several loud crashes of thunder. A moment later, McGonagall arrived, carrying the small wooden stool that first years sat on to be sorted, and the infamous Sorting Hat. 

She placed the stool at the head of the hall, where everyone had a clear view, and beckoned Quatre down, not even bothering to try calling him. He nodded and walked around the table, feeling terribly nervous for some reason and a little uncomfortable as he sank onto the too-small stool. In front of him, McGonagall smiled, though none of the students could have seen her.

As the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, Quatre took a deep breath. The crashing thunder and roaring winds were gone so abruptly that he almost jumped at their absence.

*No need to be nervous,* a voice chided him.

Belatedly, Quatre realized that it came from within his mind.

*I’ll bet no matter how many times you say that, it never helps,* he answered, trying to ‘think loudly’.

*You’d bet right. A quick mind you have there, but Ravenclaw is not the place for you… Nor Gryffindor, although you have a heart brave and true. No… Though you’re kind by nature, and loyal if given the chance, Hufflepuff is not for your bloody hands. 

*But we expected that, didn’t we? Far too much cunning and the willingness to kill to protect are very definitive traits. Not to mention that pesky mantra you’re humming there to set me straight. There’s no doubt of where you must go with all haste, although I must admit it a bit of a waste. You’d have made a wonderful Gryffindor if you weren’t so determined to go through the door of-*

“SLYTHERIN!”

There was a long pause because no one had heard the hat. So it yelled louder. 

“SLYYYYTHEEERIIIIN!” it roared.

After a few seconds of whispered confirmation, a smattering of applause came from the Slytherin table. Everyone else was still whispering—as best they could—amongst themselves.

Quatre cast a look over at Duo, who was beaming and clapping very loudly, and made his way over to the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy, who Quatre remembered from the other morning, made a space beside himself, scanning Quatre with open curiosity and a good dose of disdain.

“FOR EVERY SORTING, WE MUST HAVE A FEAST!” Dumbledore announced, clapping his hands. “ENJOY!” 

Now there was applause all over the hall. Reluctantly, Quatre took the spot offered him and tried to smile.

“I thought you were a Muggle,” Malfoy stated right away.

“So did I,” Quatre answered, raising his eyebrows at the table of food that had appeared before them. “Apparently, we were both wrong.”

“Who are you parents?” Malfoy asked a moment later.

“I don’t see what business it is of yours. What does it matter?”

“In Slytherin, it matters a great deal.”

“I suppose what you really want to know is ‘are my parents magical’? My mother was a witch.”

“Was?”

“What are you, the Spanish Inquisition?”

“The what?”

“Never mind.”

“So, was?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Are you saying I’m lying?”

“…Yes.”

“What the hell was that stupid hat thinking? If you ask me, a know-it-all half-blood like yourself belongs in Gryffindor with Potter and his gang of goody two shoes.”

“Well, no-one asked you.”

Scowling, Draco stabbed a portion of roasted fowl with his fork, dumping it on his plate. Noticing the odd silence around them, he looked up. “What are you all staring at?”

A dark-haired girl giggled. “It’s not often that someone gets the better of you, Draco.”

“Yes, well, it isn’t often that you shut your mouth, either, Pansy.”

“I do wish you’d shut yours so the rest of us can enjoy this feast,” Quatre shot at him, aiming for a pleasant tone and earning a grin from Pansy.

Draco huffed, glaring at Quatre with not a retort on his lips. Eventually, he mutilated his meat and began to eat.

“That’s much better,” Quatre said loudly, unable to help himself.

As the feast wore on, he traded several more barbs with Malfoy—even making the big lugs Crabbe and Goyle laugh at one point, chatted with Pansy, who seemed to have decided him a worthy candidate to her father’s money, and been thoroughly interrogated on: how rich he was, his mother’s name, how he was to begin school in sixth year, whether he had a favourite Quidditch team, why he wasn’t in all the regular classes, how he expected to learn magic when he was little more than a squib, and whether he had a girlfriend, bride, or otherwise significant other waiting back home.

By the time people began to leave, he was starting to regret his decision after all. The Slytherins sure were a damn nosy lot.

When Malfoy asked whether he was coming or not, Quatre was relieved to say that he wouldn’t be joining them until Monday and made his exit, integrating with Trowa and Duo on the way out. He could practically feel the glare boring into his back.

*

Draco did not know what to think. Quatre was a complete perplexity to him. 

Though he had put up a solid front during the feast, Draco had listened carefully, trying to put the boy into a category or profile. So far, all he could manage was that surely Quatre belonged in Gryffindor, or even Ravenclaw. How the half-blood, magic-less git had ended up in Slytherin was a definite mystery.

Sure, the boy had money, lots of it, and his mother was from an old Arabian wizarding line, but there had to be more to him than galleons and old blood to have been placed in the noble house of Salazar Slytherin. He would certainly be one to watch out for.

Even so, Draco couldn’t help admitting to himself that he was intrigued. He wanted to learn what it was about this boy that placed him in Slytherin, instead of other houses that he seemed more suited for. Not to mention, Quatre was quite attractive. What Draco needed was a distraction from the mundane cycle that was his life, and it seemed he’d finally found one; a good one.

Making his way back to the common room with Pansy, who was being quite cold to him, Draco cast a look at her sidelong. “What do you think of him?”

“I think he’s not an ounce gay and all mine,” Pansy told him haughtily.

“Oh, knock it off, Pan. I was grouchy, okay? I was only joking.”

“Well, in that case, I think I don’t have a chance in hell.” She sniffed. “You didn’t have to be so awful, you know.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant. I don’t trust him,” Draco announced.

At this, the girl grinned at him. “Maybe not, but you do like him…”

“I do not!”

“Oh yes, you do.”

“He’s a mudblood.”

“He’s a half-blood, and he’s cute.”

“He’s so… happy.”

“Makes a nice change.”

“He… He’s not a Slytherin. He can’t be.”

“The hat never lies, Draco, and you know it. Oh, but I do love a good secret,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Oh, stop it,” Draco growled, growing frustrated once more.

“Poor Dragon is in a grumpy mood. Did the sweet little blond boy offend him?”

“You sound like a fucking house elf,” Draco snapped, glaring at her.

“I know you like him,” Pansy whispered, before speaking the password and breezing into the common room to go chat with Millicent Bullstrode.

Thoroughly disgruntled, Draco headed straight for his dorm. He wasn’t in the mood for falsities and games tonight. Thankfully, those idiots Crabbe and Goyle had stayed behind in the hall to continue stuffing their faces. The only other guy around was Theodore Nott.

“You’ve got an owl,” Nott pointed out, gesturing to the fireplace.

That dragged Draco’s mind from dinner almost instantly. He took the letter and tore it open eagerly, expecting that it was from his father.

It was.

‘Will be in Hogsmeade,’ the note read. ‘Home for Christmas Eve. Miss you, Father.’

The note was short and vague, but it still made Draco’s spirits leap. Lucius Malfoy was a) still alive, b) coming home for Christmas and, c) [Most importantly of all] he missed Draco, or at least bothered to lie about it.

“Anything interesting?” Nott asked nosily. 

“Not for your ears.” Draco set the parchment alight so that no-one else could read it.

The owl, still waiting on the windowsill, hooted reproachfully.

“Get out of here.” Draco tried to shoo it away. “I don’t give tips, especially not to stupid creatures like you.”

“And you wonder why your owl bites you constantly,” Nott drawled, gazing at him unsettlingly.

“Oh, shut up.” Draco was half-grinning as he said this, trying to keep himself in his bad mood, but failing due to news of his father. Stripping off his robes and shirt before moving into the bathroom, he pulled the door closed behind him.

*

The moment they were out of earshot, Duo rounded on Quatre. “Cute. Blond, slimy, and nasty, but did I mention cute?”

Quatre rolled his eyes. He’d been waiting for something like that. “Oh, please. Draco is a snotty brat who depends on his family’s money to survive. Throw him out into the real world and he’d be lost.”

“I think you’re underestimating him,” Trowa said with that annoying little smirk he employed on odd occasions. “I think he’d be sneaky enough to get by.”

“Like that’s a good thing.”

“Hey, it works for me.” Duo grinned.

“Whatever.” Approaching the portrait in front of his room, Quatre spoke ‘open sesame’ and went inside.

Unfortunately, Duo and Trowa followed.

“Aww, come on, Q. There has to be something good about the kid,” Duo pressed.

“Duo, for starters, ‘the kid’ is the same age as you. Apart from that, I’m not here to pick up. I have no interest in Draco. I don’t intend to go looking for friends in that house. I can’t afford to have people sticking their noses into my business, and with that lot, that will be hard enough as it is.” Quatre flopped onto his bed. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Trowa sat on the end of the mattress, frowning down at him. “And maybe it’s exactly what you need.”

“Maybe exactly what I need is going to get me into a lot of trouble when it comes to doing my job.”

“And maybe, exactly what you need is to lighten up and be the Quatre we all know and love, who is dying to learn magic, and not afraid to have a little fun,” Duo rambled, ‘oofing’ as he landed on his stomach on the bed. “A couple of hours ago, you were excited about this.”

“A couple of hours ago, I hadn’t been interrogated to within an inch of my life and sussed out as a prospective husband,” Quatre answered, staring up at the canopy. “A couple of hours ago, I wasn’t being snubbed for having only a mother as a witch, or appraised because I have more money than anyone else in the house. A couple of hours ago, I was just Quatre Raberba Winner, gormless teenager by day, G.U.N.D.A.M operative by night. Now, I’m expected to be a full-time Slytherin, and I can’t. What if someone figures me out? What if-”

Abruptly, Quatre was cut off by the piece of parchment which had been shoved into his mouth. Pulling it out, he tried to rid the paper taste from his tongue. “What the hell?”

“Heero left it for you,” Duo explained, shrugging innocently.

With a surreptitious glance at his friend, Quatre unrolled the small scroll.

‘Stop worrying. You’ll do fine. We all believe in you. Just relax, do your job, and enjoy yourself. It’s a rare opportunity.’

Staring at the parchment for several seconds, Quatre’s mood changed very quickly. The agitated energy he’d been harbouring drained out of him. “Always knows the right thing to say, doesn’t he?”

“When he says anything at all.” Trowa smiled at him and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Heero’s right. You’re stressing about if’s and but’s. Just relax and keep your eyes open.”

Quatre nodded, placing the parchment on his bedside table. “Well, if we’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, I need to get some sleep.” 

As the other two agreed and said their goodnights, Quatre called after them, “Thanks guys.”


	27. Chapter 27

The next morning, the Great Hall was alive with excitement. Hogsmeade weekends were always a welcome distraction from the mundane schedule of school life—not that anything at Hogwarts could quite be classified as mundane, even for indoctrinated wizards and witches.

The Gryffindors bound for Diagon Alley were even more excited. Especially Harry, since he hadn’t been there for a couple of years. He remembered that Fred and George had opened their joke shop up there, and he was looking forward to visiting them. He also remembered thinking of how he’d love to take Wufei there. That seemed a lifetime away now.

As chatting students began to leave the hall in groups, Duo, Trowa, and Quatre made their way past the Gryffindor table and outside. After a brief moment of eye contact, Harry took their lead and stood, his friends following. When they made it out into the Entrance Hall, Wufei pointed out the three lingering just off of a corridor upstairs.

Catching up, all eight of them continued down the corridor. Once they were out of earshot of a group of giggling girls, Quatre pulled something out of his pocket. “I got this at breakfast,” he began. “It’s from the Headmaster. We’re to go to his office, from where we’ll be traveling by floo powder to the Leaky Cauldron. It also mentions not to be too open about it, but I suppose you guys have already figured that out.”

“Well, of course,” Ginny drawled. “We aren’t stupid.”

Harry laughed at her indignation, although a part of him wondered if Dumbledore would meet them before they left. 

When they reached the stone gargoyle, Quatre looked down at the note, and then spoke. “Strawberry Pocky,” he said with an odd expression on his face.

“Isn’t that a Japanese sweet?” Hermione asked as the stone jumped aside and they walked up the spiral staircase.

Duo grinned. “Yup!” he said cheerfully. “Best thing since sliced bread.”

“You know, I don’t really get what’s so great about sliced bread,” Ron said in an aside to Harry. “I guess it’s a Muggle thing…”

“Not really. I don’t get it either,” Harry replied. 

The office seemed empty at first, but then three figures came down the stairs from what, Harry assumed, was Dumbledore’s personal quarters.

“Morning!” Lupin called brightly, but before anyone could answer, a loud complaint issued from Duo.

“Don’t tell me he’s coming,” he said contemptuously. However, he wasn’t referring to Lupin, but glaring, rather, at Professor Peacecraft.

Dumbledore smiled brightly. “I cannot send a group of students and young associates to Diagon Alley completely unescorted, now can I?”

Harry didn’t think that was exactly what Duo was unhappy about, but there was no further complaint.

“Morning, Remus,” said Ginny, changing the subject.

“Well, if everyone is ready?” Dumbledore’s eyes lingered on Harry for an extended moment, “just take a pinch of Floo Powder, say Diagon Alley, very clearly, and enjoy your day.” He handed a list of requirements to Quatre and then nodded at them all.

Whilst Lupin, Quatre, Duo, and Ginny left one by one, Harry’s thoughts lingered on Dumbledore. He hadn’t really thought about much other than Sirius and Wufei until the other night. Now, he couldn’t help thinking that the Headmaster looked extremely tired and worn, as though he’d been working endlessly for the past several months. 

After Ron, Hermione, and Wufei went through, Mr. Peacecraft hung back to let Harry go first.

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, Professor Dumbledore, may I have a quick word?”

Peacecraft, after casting a questioning glance at the Headmaster, shrugged and stepped into the fire, calling ‘Diagon Alley!’

“What is it, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, not a flicker of his thoughts showing in his aged face.

“Sir, I-” Suddenly, Harry was unsure of what to say. There were so many things on his mind that he didn’t know what to ask first. Then, it all came out in a rush. “What’s going on? Why hasn’t he moved yet? What have you been doing? Why haven’t you told me anything? Considering the prophecy and all, shouldn’t I be involved?”

Completely to Harry’s surprise, Dumbledore laughed softly. “I’ve been waiting for such questions, Harry,” Dumbledore told him. “Please, do not think I have been avoiding you, or that I am now, but I have been incredibly busy this year. Today, I want you to enjoy yourself. Tomorrow, if you wish, I will answer your questions.”

Harry hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Okay, sir, but I’ll hold you to it.”

A little taken aback by his own gall, he took a pinch of Floo Powder, threw it into the fire, stepped in, and spoke his destination. A short while later, he stumbled out of the fire into the Leaky Cauldron, where nine people stood waiting for him.

Coughing weakly, straightening his glasses, and brushing down his robes, Harry grinned at them all. “Shall we go, then?” he asked.

Tom, the bartender, waved to him, and then slipped off into the storeroom.

“Right. Well, Quatre needs to go out into Muggle London first to draw out some money, so I’ll go with him,” said Lupin, pulling off his robe to reveal a ragged assortment of Muggle clothes. “Why don’t the rest of you go out into the Alley, and we’ll meet you at Florean’s in an hour.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Milliardo Peacecraft said cheerily.

Having established a plan, they split up. The professor opened the Alley entrance, and as the brick archway unfolded, the bright street full of bustling wizards and witches appeared.

Harry noted that the place seemed a little less busy than any time he’d been there in the past, but then, those times had been between school years when students came to buy their supplies. “So, where do we go first?” he asked the others.

“Normally I’d suggest Gringotts,” Hermione answered. “Although being halfway through the year, there isn’t really any need.”

“Actually, I could do with drawing out some more money. I want to start ordering the Daily Prophet,” Wufei explained.

“Gringotts it is, then.” Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her down the street, the others following after, with their escort lagging behind.

Duo had been in complete awe to see the wizarding bank, and when he’d taken the cart ride down to Wufei’s vault, he’d let out a scream of pure enjoyment. “That was awesome!” he cried, once they came to a halt back at the foyer entrance. “Talk about fun with banking!”

After Gringotts, everyone had been eager to visit Fred and George, Duo asking about what one might find in a wizarding novelty shop. Ginny had grinned at him, somewhat evilly. It seemed the two were fast becoming friends, to no-one’s surprise. “Oh, you’ll love it,” she said.

Strolling down the sunny streets, Harry thought the only thing that could make the morning perfect would be to slip his hand into Wufei’s. Briefly, he thought about doing it, but then remembered just Who He Was. If word got out that Harry Potter was gay, there would be no end to the gossiping and ridicule. All he’d need was the Daily Prophet to latch onto the story, and that would be the end of his private life.

Ginny was leading the way, having been the only one to visit the twins’ shop so far. She was chatting with Duo, saying something about having run out of Effervescent Paint Pellets. They followed her down a side street and finally to the front stoop of a fairly large shop with a sign flashing all the colours of the rainbow, letter by letter, bearing the words ‘Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes; for all your mischief making needs.’

Harry suddenly felt a surge of pride. Now that Mrs. Weasley had all but submit to the fact that two of her sons were undertaking what she considered to be an unsuitable profession, he was quite glad to have lent the twins enough money to get this place up and running. 

Stepping inside, he found that he was rather impressed. The store was unusually tidy for Fred and George. There were shelves stocked with all their old merchandise such as Canary Creams and Headless Hats, but also new gags and tricks lining the rows. He peered at a shelf full of what appeared to be huge slinkys, but on further inspection, shimmered in and out of vision. 

“What on earth are those?” Harry asked no one in general.

“Isn’t it obvious?” a voice called to him. “They’re Springing Foot Traps. You place them on the stairs and they turn invisible. Then, when someone steps in them, they shrink and latch on to people’s feet. New product; just got onto the shelves last week. We’ve already sold a batch-full.”

“George!” Ginny yelled, tearing across the room and behind the counter, where she leapt on her elder brother.

“’Allo, Ginny,” he replied, swinging her off her feet. Placing her back down, he turned to the others. “Harry, Ron.” He nodded to each of them. “Blimey, never thought to see you in here, Hermione.”

She mumbled something about just visiting, gazing a little apprehensively at some of the items on the shelves. 

“Good to see you, Wufei,” George continued, ignoring Hermione’s disapproving eyebrow.

“You’ve met?” asked Harry.

“Of course! We are still living at the Burrow,” said George as though this was obvious. “That is the whole point of Apparating, you know. Makes it easy to travel around.”

“Where’s Fred?” Wufei questioned, looking around a shelf.

“Oh, he’s out the back, t-”

“Look out!” shouted the man in question.

Everyone jumped aside just in time as a multicolored, sparking Catherine Wheel zoomed past and out the open door, Fred Weasley tearing after it.

“Uhoh,” George muttered. “Old Mandy Taper is going to have another fit…”

“What… was that?” Duo asked slowly.

“Uh, Fred was experimenting with our fireworks, trying to make them change colour and whatnot,” George explained, craning his neck to look out the window where Fred could be seen running frantically down the street after the escaped firework. “I think we’ll stick to experimenting with the sparklers from now on, though… Uh, anyone want some tea? Business is slow today. Some git is putting on a Muggle magic show down in Pentagonal Square.”

After Trowa, Duo, and Professor Peacecraft had been introduced to George, they all went into the back room—except for Duo, who elected to have a look around, and Trowa, who elected to supervise—which was in a much more fitting state of disarray. There were patches of colour everywhere, which occasionally changed, and several sparklers wrote ‘crap,’ ‘penis,’ and ‘Umbridge is a whore’ in mid-air. Spotting this one, Harry choked on the tea he’d just sipped.

George grinned. “That’s one of the old ones. Special Hogwarts Edition.” Even Hermione and Milliardo—who’d heard all about her from Lupin—laughed.

“Oh, George, before I forget, I need some more Paint Pellets,” Ginny said suddenly.

“Really, Ginny,” Hermione scolded. “You’re a prefect. You ought to be-”

“Don’t be such a wet rag, Hermione. She needs to redeem herself somehow.” George frowned as he went to fetch the pellets. “Prefect. Honestly, I think Dumbledore’s gone barmy. First Ron, and now Ginny… By the way, did you ever end up deciding what your reward would be?” George called from the front of the store.

“No. I just told mom to wait until I really wanted something. It’s not as though I need a familiar.” George nodded upon reappearing with a couple of boxes. Apparently he knew about Ginny becoming an Animagus. “And thanks to you two, I already have a new broom.”

Before handing the box over, George cast an accusatory glance at the Professor. However, Mr. Peacecraft seemed quite thoroughly absorbed in watching a patch of violet slowly fade to magenta.

“I still can’t believe you got her a broom.” Ron glared into his tea. “All I got was a set of dress robes.”

“Yeah, but Ginny uses her power for evil. You’re just sad, mate,” said Fred from the doorway. 

There was another round of greetings.

“So, what happened? Did the old bat give you hell?” George asked him finally.

“Naw. I managed to corner the thing down Hummingbird Lane, but I think it ran over one of Olga’s cats. It had this patch of singed fur over its back when I ran past it.”

George winced. “Let’s hope she doesn’t figure out it was us, eh?”

They sat around for a while longer swapping stories. Duo ended up buying a few bits and pieces. 

“Just for study,” he insisted, although there was a questionable glint to his eyes.

Eventually, Wufei pointed out that it was already past an hour. They said goodbye to the twins and headed back out into Diagon Alley toward Florean Fortescues. When they arrived, Quatre and Lupin were already sitting at a nice, sunny table outside with two enormous ice cream sundaes.


	28. Chapter 28

Heero had arrived in the Hogs Head late Wednesday night after housing his Thestral in the nearby Hogsmeade Stables. Before he’d even checked in, several shady looking characters seemed to have pegged him as an easy target. He disillusioned them all quickly by taking out the first idiot who decided that a kid with no apparent means of magic was going to put food on his decrepit table.

Having warned off most of his would-be attackers; he’d approached the barman/innkeeper and booked a room for a month, payment by the day. Once that was settled, with a little haggling over prices and extras, he ordered a firewhiskey and took a seat, surveying all exits, entrances, and current clientele. Careful not to let the drink go to his head, he took his time, sipping it slowly for a long while. By the time he’d finally drained the large mug, he’d learned a lot of interesting secrets that—to him—were completely useless. Except for one possibly… alleged… suspected rumour that five muscle-bound, thick-skulled Muggle idiots were guarding Hogwarts. Funnily enough, he had no inclination to dissuade that rumour; in fact, he intended to nurture it.

That was why he was whispering in pronounced undertones to an old hag that Saturday afternoon, saying that he’d seen a massive man with muscles like boulders and a face like day old steak and kidney pie on the outskirts of the village. Just as she gasped and scuttled off to share this juicy tidbit, someone apparated in behind him and ordered fountain ale for two.

Recognizing the voice, Heero did not turn around, but continued to swirl his drink and take a long drag. Not long after, he heard another pop. The new arrival headed straight for the table that Snape had claimed.

*

Severus Snape had to fight down a gasp when his old friend and lover took a seat across from him. Lucius’ regal face was a disfigured by a harsh slash that cut straight through one brow, over the bridge of his nose, and through the corner of his lips. He hadn’t seen the man in a long time. Long gone were the days when Lucius Malfoy could freely traverse the wizarding world.

Knowing full-well the dangers of this meeting, despite the silencing charms he’d placed around their booth, Severus did not whisper as he would have liked. Rather, he mouthed the man’s name. His face was lined with pity but he soon learned that this was a mistake.

“Don’t look at me like that, you old fool,” Lucius growled, the corners of his lips curling downwards in distaste.

A retort hot on his lips, Severus backed down. “Very well.” He pushed Lucius’ ale towards him, resisting the urge to glance up into the hooded face before him. “What news?”

Lucius sighed deeply. “Five enemies inside Hogwarts. Muggles. Apparently they’re there to protect Potter. Have you seen them?”

“I have,” Snape said coolly. “What interest could he have in Muggles, though? Surely he doesn’t see them as a threat.”

“Of course not. To him, their employment is a fact of sheer amusement,” Lucius replied, downing his ale quickly. “And a way of further torturing me,” he added so quietly that Severus had to lean forward to catch the whole phrase.

“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Apparently, Lucius took that as a sign that he was in trouble, immediately straightening his shoulders and fixing Severus with a haughty glare. “Don’t even think of scolding me. I have every right to be angry.”

“You misjudge me, Lucius,” Severus sighed. “I’m merely concerned for you.” After a long moment, Malfoy backed down, slumping against his seat. “You aren’t yourself at all.”

“How can I be? My ‘self’ is proud and strong. I am but a shell,” Lucius whispered, his eyes downcast.

“What did you mean? About torture,” Severus reiterated, reversing the subject.

“My son. He uses him against me; threatens me with Draco’s demise and worse. I have been ordered to use my son to spy on the Muggles.”

“What?” A sudden rage filled Severus. Draco was as much of a son to him as he’d ever have, but he’d never tell that to the boy, or his father. “I am there; a teacher, in far better a position to spy than a student! What can he be thinking?”

“Calm down. Just because we can’t be heard doesn’t mean we can’t be read. Like I said, he uses my son as leverage over me,” said Lucius sadly.

“Then I’ll pass you the information and you can say-”

“You should know better than that,” Lucius growled, his icy eyes flashing. “If he found out, all three of us would be condemned.”

“Of course. I’m not thinking clearly.” At that moment, Severus wanted to confess, to tell the man that he was still in love with of how he was spying for Albus Dumbledore; of how he had been since before the Dark Lord’s downfall. He wanted to confide in Lucius, and apparently, this was quite readable, or else Lucius knew him far too well.

For a long moment, the man watched him, as if sizing him up. “Sev,” he began, taking a deep breath and plunging on. “I know. At least… I think I do. What you’ve been doing…”

Severus froze, drawing in a long breath. “Whatever you do, don’t say what it is you’re thinking. Not here.” 

Far from saving his own hide, Severus’ thoughts were trained upon Lucius. If he was revealed to have known all along that Severus was a double agent, then, again, both of them as well as Draco, would go down together.

Slowly, Lucius nodded, understanding the danger. 

“How?” Snape finally asked.

“I know you better than anyone. It isn’t obvious. In fact, you’re brilliant at it. That’s why I figured it out. The ‘devotion’ you show, you only feel for one person: yourself.”

Oh, how he would love to correct that, to say that he was devoted to Lucius in so many ways the man would never understand. “Why have you never said anything?” Severus pressed, tapping into a new feeling of hope.

Malfoy stared for yet another long moment, and then looked away. “I may have a wife and child but you will always be my first love,” he said very quietly.

Drawing in a very long, painful breath, Severus leaned back in his chair. “Thank you,” he whispered, lost for anything else to say. “For your silence.”

Suddenly, Lucius grimaced, a hand clamping over his forearm. “Watch over my son for me. P—Pass on the message. There is no other choice.”

Before the man could dissaparate, Snape grabbed his shoulder. “You could always join me,” he said desperately.

“Maybe someday,” he heard faintly, seconds before Lucius disappeared with a pop.

Settling back into his chair, Severus ran a hand over his face, gathering himself together to ‘run into’ Heero. Perhaps he truly would get himself sloshed.

After deep sigh, he made his way to the bar, wondering if he should count himself lucky that there was a spare stool next to Heero. Ignoring the boy for the moment, he hailed the bartender. “What is most likely to get me drunk?” he asked, straight to the point.

Not quite trusting the grin he received at that question, or the name ‘Dire Illusion’, Severus ordered a bottle of Magna’s Scale Scotch. Ignoring the reproving glare of his neighbour, he downed a glass of the horrible liquor and grimaced.

*

Quatre had dragged over a couple more chairs but though there were enough, they didn’t quite fit around the table. He frowned.

“Not to worry,” Lupin assured them. With a flick of his wand, the table extended. It was now large enough to accommodate all of the chairs and those pulling them out to sit down.

Hermione offered to order for everybody, taking mental note of all the preferences, and hurried off to the counter. As the others exchanged greetings, she called back to them. “What was it you wanted, Harry?”

“Harry? Oh! Mr. Potter, it’s you! I assume you want the usual. Oh, no, you silly girl. You’ll get all of them on the house. It’s a treat to have you here this far into term.”

Duo raised an eyebrow at Harry, who just shrugged. “The perks of being me,” he said in a dry tone.

Ron positively beamed at him. “You make it sound like such a hardship, mate.” A moment later, he conceded. “Well, true enough, but… perks!” he exclaimed as Hermione came back with a tray carrying two sundaes, one Chocolate Volcano, and four floating cones.

Conversation halted as everyone dug in, enjoying the warm sun beating down on them and the cool ice cream to fill their bellies. Duo was particularly delighted. His Chocolate Volcano continually erupted with chocolate sauce as soon as the stuff depleted along with the ice cream crater. He’d never tasted something so rich, so creamy. Ice cream, especially chocolate, had always provided him with an orgasmic satisfaction. But this glorious, wonderful…. amazing creation wrangled from him a moan of happiness, causing all but Trowa to glance at him oddly.

Once they were finished, Milliardo and Lupin opted to visit a coffee shop and leave the others to relax.

Hermione snorted. “Some supervision.”

Ginny laughed at her. “You’re not actually complaining, are you?”

“Of course not. I just think it’s very lax of them.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Hermione. How much trouble can we get into in Diagon Alley?”

Grinning, Duo slid back his chair. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

But as he stood to undertake this mission, a tiny black sparrow swooped at him. “Hey!” he cried.

The bird landed on the cobblestone, several steps away from the braided boy. It looked up at him insolently, and seemed to radiate impudence. 

“I don’t believe it,” Hermione breathed, standing very slowly to see the bird over the table. “It can’t be.”

“What?” Ginny asked.

“It’s a black sparrow,” Hermione answered.

Though sure that this was something significant, Duo couldn’t quite assess why that was so. The fact that the creature was a sparrow, and black, at that, was quite obvious, and didn’t explain why it fascinated the studious girl so. He had managed to get over his shock at the bird’s attitude and glared at it, swinging his hand to shoo it away.

“Oh, don’t,” Hermione moaned. “Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

“Hermione, what are you talking about?” Ron finally asked, rolling his eyes. “Just explain for once, will you?”

“Black sparrows are very rare. They never show up in populated areas, I can’t imagine why this one’s here now, but most importantly…” She took her eyes off of the sparrow for an instant, looking around at the group. “The black sparrow is said to be a messenger of death. If one is lucky enough to come across a black sparrow, they say the person can contact the deceased. Some more obscure texts even say that those who died under certain circumstances are allowed to send a message via sparrow to a loved one.”

A silence fell over the group until Harry’s whisper broke it. “Sirius.” He raised his eyes hopefully to Hermione, who looked aggrieved.

“Oh, Harry. It’s just a legend. I don’t think… It couldn’t be…” She trailed off, stricken by the desperation of that uttered name. 

Observing the exchange, Duo kept a cautious eye on the group as he bent low. He extended his hand for the bird. Having heard its story, he was intrigued. Significantly more so when it hopped onto his hand, chirping reproachfully.

Unaware that seven pairs of eyes were trained on him, Duo lifted his palm up to eye level, inspecting the little bird. He half expected it to start spouting off some ethereal message or something. It didn’t. Long seconds ticked by and still nothing happened. Finally, after over a minute, the sparrow leaped into the air and landed on Duo’s head, burrowing into his hair. “What the fuck!?” he cried, trying in vain to look up at the creature now nestled in his chestnut locks.

Suddenly, the tension exploded in laughter. Everyone’s faces were split with grins.

“I think it likes you, mate,” Ron sniggered.

Duo whirled on Hermione who just shrugged. Snarling, he reached up to try and dislodge the bird but sustained a painful bite to his finger. “Oh, come on. Will somebody please help me?”

Trowa, who had watched the whole thing silently, grinned and got to his feet. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do at the moment,” he answered with a curiously light lilt to his voice. “I don’t really want to be bitten myself.”

“Hello… Magic!” Duo cried, glaring at the wizards and witches of their party.

Ginny put on a mask of shock. “Oh, we couldn’t! Imagine if we ended up levitating your head off of yours shoulders. Or worse, blew it up!”

“But… But…” Duo sputtered, appealing to Hermione and then Harry in turn. “Fine!” he finally growled. “Just wait till I find that bastard Zechs. I just KNOW he can get rid of this thing.” Turning on his heel, he walked away from the ice cream store, attempting to ignore the muffled laughter behind him. “Coming?” he asked, even as Wufei’s comment reached his ears.

“Even if he could, I get the feeling Peacecraft wouldn’t be so inclined to help…”


	29. Chapter 29

Quatre licked his lips once and took a deep breath. Then, he walked in through the doorway to Olivanders, the others waiting for him outside. Being inside the shop caused him to shiver. The place just… felt old.

“And you would be Mr. Raberba Winner,” stated an elderly man polishing his over-sized glasses as he sauntered out from a back room. “Ah, yes. I see some of Aethylla in you. A fine wand of ancient willow; seven inches, with hair of a unicorn. Perfect for general Charms and spellwork, but with an uncommon flair for Divination.”

Unable to say anything, Quatre just stared at the man. He felt a shimmer of the pure magic contained in this room. “Where are my manners? Hello,” he said finally, holding out his hand. 

Olivander did not shake it, but, rather began to take measurements from wrist to shoulder.

“Oh, um…” Quatre turned, allowing the spelled tape to measure the length and width of his back, although he couldn’t see how it was in any way relevant.

Once the measurements were done, he was beckoned closer to the counter and Mr. Olivander plucked a wand from a box, handing it to him. “Swish it,” the man ordered.

Doing so, Quatre felt a jolt of electricity buzz up his arm and then down again, back into the wand.

“Oh, dear, certainly not. Hmm, I daresay it was close, though…”

Rifling across a shelf, Mr. Olivander pulled out a black box trimmed in gold. 

“I wonder, I wonder…” he handed the wand over. “Try this one.”

Swishing the wand, warmth spread through Quatre and he just knew that this was the wand for him.

“How interesting,” said the salesman slowly, peering closely at Quatre. “Young man, this wand is almost identical to that of your grandmother’s. Six inches, ancient willow; however, it harbours a phoenix feather of deepest blood red. That wand has potent potential for both Divination… and the Dark Arts, my boy.”

An icy trickle ran down Quatre’s back. He almost felt like apologizing, as though he were being accused of something. “Th-thank you,” he stammered, hastening to pay and make his way out of the shop.

“Hold on,” the elderly man called. “Keep in mind, that it should also be quite useful for Defensive Arts.”

“What was that all about?” Duo asked, peering through the window at Olivander who was still staring intently at Quatre. “He’s downright creepy,” Duo murmured. “Reminds me of G…”

“Who’s G?” Asked Ginny, waving at Mr. Olivander with a bright smile.

“Crazy old coot,” Duo replied, earning a grin from Trowa.

“Come on, onto Madam Malkin’s,” prompted Hermione, leading the youths further down the street. “We’ve got to keep moving. The Headmaster wants us back well before dark, you know.”

The robes fitting didn’t take very long, and soon Quatre was wearing the proper Hogwarts uniform, fitting snugly for his comfort. “I think it’ll take me a while to get used to these,” he said, shaking his arms experimentally.

Before they could leave, Wufei approached the woman. “I know I’m a Muggle, but I was wondering if maybe…”

“Oh, of course, dear. No need to be shy. Actually, I have a rather lovely set of forest green robes that would suit you nicely.” Madam Malkin smiled and patted him on the back. Then she went rifling through a row of clothes. When she emerged again, the deep green casual and formal robes hung over her arm. 

“Thank you,” Wufei said, bowing slightly to her. He seemed surprised that she would serve him so easily.

“Don’t be silly. There’s no rule saying that Muggles can’t dress like a wizard. Why, we wear your clothes all the time. In fact…” A wistful expression passed over her features. “I’m rather fond of them.”

“Come on, ‘Fei,” Harry urged once the robes were purchased and placed in a carry bag. “We’re off to Flourish and Blott’s next. I’m sure you’ll find some interesting books there.”

The day passed rather enjoyably and Quatre soon had almost everything he needed, including the scrying bowl required of sixth year divination students. They’d spent some time lingering around the new Nimbus model but Quatre wasn’t even sure if he could fly so he opted not to by a broom for the time being. Lastly, they headed to Eyelops Owl Emporium.

“I think an owl would be most useful,” Quatre said to Trowa as they walked inside. The shop was quiet, supposedly because it was day time and those owls that weren’t sleeping were looking somewhat drowsy. “I could send messages to you and Duo in Hogsmeade. It would save a lot of traveling back and forth.”

“See any you particularly like?” Harry asked.

“What about that one over there?” Duo pointed towards an owl that seemed the very likeness of midnight.

Trowa rolled his eyes. “You only like it because it’s black,” he said dryly.

“That’s not true. I happen to think it’s rather unique,” Duo replied sullenly.

Hermione, however, shook her head. “It would be discreet at night but during the day it would stand out like a sore thumb. You don’t want something that would draw so much attention…”

“That’s a good point,” Quatre agreed, looking around at some of the lighter shades. One of them caught his eye. “What breed is that one?”

“It’s a Rufous Fishing Owl,” Wufei told him.

“How do you know that?” asked Trowa, looking at him side-on.

“I read a book on owls while I was staying with the Weasleys.” Wufei followed Quatre over to the owl. “It’s a fairly common species, so she wouldn’t stand out too much.”

Nodding, Quatre held out his arm. The owl eyed him for a moment, then stepped off of its perch.

“Hello there,” Quatre crooned, patting its feathers softly. “I’m Quatre.”

As they walked back down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron, Quatre peered into his owl’s eyes—he declined to keep her in a cage until they got back to the castle. “Now, what should I call you?” He looked for something in her features that hinted at a name but only one thing stood out. “You are beautiful, aren’t you? What do you think of the name Hecate?”

Letting out a soft hoot, Hecate approved of her new name and nestled herself into Quatre’s shoulder for the floo ride back to Hogwarts Castle.

*

Heero could be tolerant when he was required to be, but he was, at the moment, thoroughly disgruntled. He’d expected far more from the strict Potions Master who was currently pissed off his face.

Somehow, they’d managed to accomplish at least a part of their mission, the wizard listening to his eccentric doubts of the Muggle Minister Khushrenada and voicing his own complaints about meddlesome Muggles, though with a little less decorum. Grudgingly, Heero had to admit that the alcohol added a little authenticity to the performance.

Although he didn’t know a great deal about magic, Heero was fairly certain that Snape would not be able to apparate back to the castle in one piece, so he dragged the man up to his room.

“You can let go now, you half-pint moron,” Snape sneered once the door was closed.

Heero narrowed his eyes. “You can barely walk.”

“Don’t be a fool. I’m fine.” To prove the point, Snape straightened up and brushed down his slightly wrinkled robes.

“You were faking,” Heero observed dryly. 

“Of course I was, and to tell the truth, I expected you to pick up on that.” The disapproving sneer didn’t faze Heero much. 

“You were… convincing,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Good to hear.”

Expecting the professor to leave, Heero turned his back and pulled his robe off, reaching for the small bag of belongings in which his regular tank top was hiding. Snape, in his drunken impression, had splashed him with some awful-smelling spirit.

However, the man hadn’t yet left. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Looking over his shoulder, Heero shot the man a glare. “I’m changing,” he said curtly, stating the obvious. “Why are you still here?”

Snape hesitated a moment but turned his gaze away in an apparent appraisal of the room. “I thought it would be a good chance for us to discuss the next stage.”

“Fine.” Heero pulled the green shirt over his head and sat down on the bed which was one of few objects in the room. Snape pulled over the one and only chair, sitting in it stiffly, and then thinking better of it. He stood and transfigured the little wooden thing into something more comfortable.

Both waited for the other to begin. Neither did. Sighing, Heero crossed his legs beneath him and leaned back against the wall.

“You’re worried,” he said quietly.

“If you want to put your life at risk, that isn’t my problem,” Snape answered back, staring out the window.

“About your friend, I mean,” Heero continued, narrowing his eyes.

“And that isn’t your problem,” the Potions Master replied in acid tones.

“It is if your feelings put either of us in danger.” Glaring, Heero waited for the man to look at him before he went on. “My safety depends on your competency.”

To his surprise, there was no scathing comment in return, no degrading sneer.

“My feelings won’t get in the way,” Snape answered softly. “I’ve been doing this for the majority of my life, or so it seems…” he trailed off, sullenly staring at the bed post.

“I know what you mean,” Heero whispered before he could stop himself. 

He didn’t need to prove himself to anyone, but he did not want to show weakness in front of this man. They would, essentially, be working together, and Snape already looked down on him. Heero had to make the man see him as an equal but if he let stupid comments like that slip, that would never happen.

However, when Snape’s eyes lifted once more, his gaze was anything but condescending, and somewhat unfocused. “I suppose you do,” he muttered. Then, he shook his head slightly. 

Heero smirked. It seemed that the copious quantity of alcohol had at least had some effect. “Go get some sleep. We can continue our discussion on Monday.”

Snape seemed about to argue but he nodded and gave in. “Very well. You will be transported back to my office by portkey. At midnight on Monday, I will take you before the Dark Lord.” With a brief inclination of his head, Snape stood and apparated out.

“Dark Lord at midnight,” Heero drawled. “How dramatic. Duo would have a field day.”

*

Duo growled and grumbled all the way back to his room. Not one person had been willing to get rid of the bloody sparrow that had made a home for itself on his head. Not even the Headmaster. It certainly didn’t help that he could hear Trowa snickering softly behind his back.

“Dumb bird,” he mumbled as he stopped in front of the painting to their room. “Duo is the greatest.”

“Has the greatest ego, you mean,” muttered the inhabitant sarcastically. That just made Trowa laugh harder.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Duo grumbled. “It wouldn’t be so funny if it was your head being turned into a nest. Not that anything could penetrate those bangs of yours…”

Preparing to flop onto his bed, Duo pulled out his hair tie and began to undo his braid, but Trowa caught him around the waist. 

“It likes you,” Trowa whispered into his ear, then nibbled on the lobe a little. “I like you.”

“Then you’ve got something in common. I hope you become good friends.” Duo tried half-heartedly to struggle out of Trowa’s embrace.

Hands drifting a little lower, Trowa’s lips brushed over Duo’s cheek. “I don’t need anyone but you,” he breathed.

As the boys fell onto the mattress, Duo barely noticed the bird take off from his head and land on one of the little silver objects he’d been messing with. He was far too pre-occupied with Trowa’s hands and lips roaming his body.


	30. Chapter 30

Sunday was absolutely dreary and almost everyone in the castle elected to stay in their rooms or common rooms. 

Harry and Wufei spent the day lounging by the fire, until Harry noticed the look his boyfriend was sending his way. Promptly, two of the three armchairs were up for grabs. 

Hermione had decided to do some work in the library and offered to take Ron with her, but was turned down, oddly enough, for an impromptu Gryffindor Tower Wizard’s Chess Tournament. Meanwhile, Ginny took the opportunity to practice shape-shifting in the room of requirement. 

Quatre had elected to stay in bed and read some of the background books that Lupin had suggested. The werewolf in question was nowhere to be seen and neither was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. 

The only person who seemed to want to roam the castle was Duo. He’d woken up in the morning to find that the magical object that annoying bird had landed on was whirring softly, and spinning. Naturally, he just had to know why, so he figured he’d ask Hermione, but Trowa absolutely forbade him to so much as set a foot on the floor. Therefore, Duo was bedridden all day. Not that he was complaining.

*

Monday came around, and the weather cleared up just enough for the school day to be bearable. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were in the common room during the morning break when they heard a familiar voice arguing with the Fat Lady. Rolling her eyes, Hermione pushed open the portrait hole to let Duo step through.

“Thanks,” Duo said brightly, flashing a charming grin at the indignant portrait and dragging Trowa through behind him.

“Wufei isn’t here,” Harry called out. “He went to see Quatre, I think.”

“Actually, I was looking for Hermione.” Duo grabbed her and dragged her over to a free study table, and then he pulled the spinning object from a pocket. “You wouldn’t have any idea what this is, would you?”

Hermione frowned, tapping her lips with her finger. She took the object and turned it round slowly, taking it in from different angles. “It looks familiar,” she mumbled, and then gasped. “I know what this is! It’s a Spindegraph!”

“A what?” Duo stared at her blankly, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Wherever did you find this?” Hermione asked, but didn’t leave room for the answer. “This is an old messaging system, sort of like a telegraph, only it works on magic instead of electricity. A wizard from anywhere in the world could send messages to another anywhere else, instead of apparating there and back again. They were outdated by the floo system being connected and then owl post became commercialized.. This one must be ancient. How on Earth did you get it working?”

Duo scratched his head, having received much more information than he’d bargained for. “Well, I found it in what I think was a storage room, but it didn’t start working until yesterday morning after that damn bird took off.”

“The bird?” Hermione asked slowly.

“Yeah, it hopped out of my hair last night when T… When I, uh, went to bed. I think it landed on that Spindygraff thingy. It-”

“Oh, my… Oh… my…” Hermione wasn’t even listening anymore, but muttering to herself and staring blankly at the surface of the table. Then, she jumped up, suddenly. “You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you? Oh, wow. I need to do a little research.”

She was well up the staircase to the girl’s dormitories before Duo could even blink.

*

Quatre had sat in on the sixth year potions lesson to get a general idea of the subject. Conveniently, Professor Snape was free during the next block of lessons. That became the time for Quatre’s private tutelage in potions. Needless to say, the Potions Master wasn’t too happy about this.

“For your sake, boy, I do hope you’re as competent as the headmaster suggests. Even if you do posses an unnatural amount of raw talent, you will need to work extremely hard to catch up.”

That opening speech didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but Quatre wasn’t about to be intimidated. 

He accepted the first task of shredding roots, and though he was given no instructions on how to do it, he’d watched the other students earlier and figured that meticulous care and speed were the most important things. He quickly found a balance between the two and had collected a nice pile in about four minutes.

“Put them in the cauldron. This will be a cold solution, so there is no need to heat it first.”

Doing as he was told, Quatre dropped the roots into his cauldron and looked up at the professor for further instructions. He quickly learned that chopping, measuring and mixing were the main components of this subject, and by the end of the session, his hands were a little cramped. However, he felt rather satisfied with himself. His first lesson had gone very well.

Snape—arrogant bastard that he was—just sneered and shooed him off to lunch.

However, he wasn’t awarded a lunch break, because once he got to the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy dragged him off.

“I’ve been sent to show you the way to the dungeons. All of your things have already been transported to the dorm. Hurry up, we haven’t got all day.”

Sighing, Quatre let himself be tugged along. He’d expected something like this to happen during the day, but he’d really been looking forward to lunch.

“You just had a potions lesson with Snape, right?” Draco asked, without looking back at him.

Quatre quickly caught up and nodded.

“So? How was it?” Draco prompted, looking somewhat irritated.

“It went well, I think. It’s not such a difficult subject, just a rather tedious one. I think that as long as I’m careful I’ll get along fine,” Quatre answered, smiling happily.

Malfoy snorted and looked at him sideways. “You’re either a bloody genius or your lying,” he said bluntly. “The rest of us have been taking the subject for years and difficult is quite an understatement.”

A faint blush spread across Quatre’s cheeks but he shrugged it off.

Draco didn’t speak again until they reached a dead end, but Quatre had seen his glares and glances along the way. The Slytherin spoke the password, and waited for the wall to shift before walking through. Following, Quatre immediately made a note of the common room’s layout; the fireplace, the couches, the tables. It held the same furnishings as Gryffindor Tower but somehow seemed more refined, and a little less homey.

The walls were hung with lamps that somehow lit the room quite nicely. It was nothing at all like the dark, dank dungeon that Quatre had been dreading. Green and Silver tapestries adorned the walls along with several portraits of dignified men and women decked out in those same colours. There was obviously a great sense of pride within this house. 

“That’s the entrance to the girl’s wing. Ours is through here,” Draco told him, gesturing as they went through a tapestry and down a corridor strewn with doors. “Second year,” he said. Then they turned a corner and Quatre was surprised to find a downward slope. They turned another corner. “Third year.” Around again and yet further down and so on until they reached the corridor for sixth year which was five flights down. “Beyond us is the seventh year corridor and then the first year. Each year, the numbers change. For instance, the seventh year corridor will become the first.”

“I see.” Nodding, Quatre waited until Draco pushed the door open with a little mock bow. “I take it that this is our room?” Quatre asked.

“Precisely.” Draco’s face soured a little and he pulled the door closed behind him. “Our room being yours and mine. There were no free spaces in the sixth year dorm, so Professor Snape decided to move me into this spare dorm with you. It seems that I have been appointed your chaperone,” he added with a sneer.

Quatre ignored him and moved to the familiar trunk at the foot of the bed closest to the window. He opened it to quickly check the contents out of habit, making sure that nothing had been touched. Then, he unlatched Hecate’s cage which had been transferred into the room. His new owl was sleeping peacefully, but no doubt she would want to be out and about as soon as night fell. He found some treats and left them out for her.

Through all of this, Malfoy had been leaning against the door and watching him. Quatre hesitated a moment, and then turned to him with a smile. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been a great help, and moving into a new room away from your friends…”

A shocked expression almost came over Draco’s face, but he held it off. “It’s nothing. Goyle snores and Crabbe has atrocious hygiene. I’ve always wanted a room to myself, so as long as you don’t get in my way I couldn’t be happier,” he answered a little hastily. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” Quatre said once he was finished, seeing through the act.

“You’re too damn nice,” Draco muttered, avoiding his gaze. After a short pause, he turned and walked out the door. “If you’re hungry, follow me,” he called out.

Draco led Quatre up one ramp and then stopped short, pressing the toe of his shoe against a stone in the wall. It retracted and revealed a secret passageway. “This route leads to the kitchens,” he explained, indicating the dark corridor with a tilt of his head. 

They made their way through by the light of Draco’s wand and after about five minutes, they came out from behind a large wall hanging to a room teeming with House Elves. “There are many sections to the kitchens,” Draco told him. “House Elves don’t need doors so the main entrance is actually supposed to be a secret but it’s used by Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, so they don’t come back this far which means we Slytherins are spared from running into them.”

Quatre refrained from sighing. The haughty attitude was fast preying on his nerves and he didn’t know how long he would be able to stand it. 

Immediately, a swarm of the odd elves crowded them, asking for their wishes and whether they would like this or that. “Get away, you filthy creatures,” Draco spat, kicking at them. They shied away, obviously scared.

“Draco, stop that!” Quatre scolded, outraged. “You can’t treat them like that!”

“They’re House Elves,” the Slytherin ground out as if that made it all okay.

Quatre just gaped at him, and then rushed to one of the elves who had a gush of blood coming from his nose. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out but the House Elf’s eyes grew wide and it scooted back.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” drawled Draco. “A handkerchief might be counted as clothes and if you gave that to him, he’d lose his job.”

“What?” Quatre asked, somewhat stupidly.

“Just take the food they’re offering and let’s go. I’ll explain it later, I suppose.” Sighing, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as though he’d been landed with a heavy burden.

Quatre could barely enjoy his sandwich because they argued all the way back. Quatre was disgusted by Draco’s views on creatures ‘lower than himself’ and Draco was disgusted by Quatre’s general lack of ‘class dignity’. The result was that the blond G.U.N.D.A.M operative was rather pissed off by the time they reached the entrance to the passage.

He wiped a hand over his eyes. “Why must you constantly look down on everything around you? Why must you never admit to being wrong?”

There was a long pause where they both glared at each other. It was the cautious glare of an enemy sizing up his opponent.

“Why must you not realize that we noble and higher class wizards have a right to regard ourselves as better than those below us?” Draco asked quietly.

Turning away, Quatre started the ascent back to the common room. “You are really getting annoying, you know that? Your ‘holier than thou’ crap has been outdated for a least a century,” he spat through his grit teeth.

“Not in this world. Not in Slytherin... You don’t belong here,” Draco snarled.

Quatre growled and spun around, his open palms slamming loudly against the stone wall, either side of Draco’s head. “On the contrary, I belong here more than any of you.” He leaned in very close so that his breath tickled the boy’s ear. “I could kill you in a heartbeat,” he whispered slowly, then pressed minutely closer so that his lips just grazed a pale ear. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so.”

Then, he stepped back, catching both the fear and intrigue in Draco’s eyes, before stalking off down the corridor. He indulged in a self-satisfied smirk; one way or another, he was definitely getting used to Slytherin.

*

Draco leaned heavily against the wall as Quatre turned down the corridor. He heard footsteps grow softer and softer until the sound faded out completely. He was shaking and he couldn’t suppress it. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Quatre,” he whispered, staring blankly at the far wall. “Who the hell are you?”

He was scared. Scared of that happy little blond who barely knew a thing about magic…

‘I could kill you in a heartbeat, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do so.’

For some reason, Draco had no doubts that those words were the truth.

Shaking his head, Draco went to his room and slammed the door behind him, flopping down onto the bed. His life was turning upside down. For once, he had no clue what was going on. Strangers were coming into the school that had the power to shake him up with no magic at all.

And Pansy had been right. Draco was attracted to Quatre, no matter how he looked at it. The boy had a presence that both intrigued and repelled him. He had to be careful, very careful. He had to pay attention and keep on his toes. He couldn’t let Quatre catch on to his weakness or he’d lose any credibility and pride that he had left…

A sharp wrapping on the door startled him out of his deep thoughts.

“C-come in,” he called.

Professor Snape entered, looking grim and tired.

“Professor?” Draco asked, frowning

Snape muttered a silencing spell, sealing the room off so that they could not be overheard. “I met with your father on Saturday,” he began, sitting on the edge of Quatre’s bed. He seemed hesitant, as though he didn’t want to go on.

“My father? How is he, what did he say?!” Draco cried. “I looked for him, but-”

“He is fine, but he’s worried about you,” Snape cut in quietly.

“Professor?” Draco asked again, uncertainly. “What’s going on?”

“There are strangers in this school; one of whom in this very house. The others are Muggles, to the best of anyone’s knowledge-”

“Quatre,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“Yes, Winner is one of them.” The professor looked away, unable to meet Draco’s eyes. “The Dark Lord has ordered that you keep an eye on them.”

Silence reigned. Draco couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He stared at Snape in shock, Quatre’s words ringing in his ears. 

Finally, Snape hung his head, glaring at the floor. “I wish there were some other way, but-”

“Why me?” Draco asked quietly.

“Because you are your father’s son.”

“It’s a threat.” Draco’s eyes narrowed and he ignored Snape’s gasp. He could feel the anger stirring up within him. He wanted to yell, to break something, but then he froze. Snape was working for Voldemort. If Draco gave away that he wasn’t loyal…

He looked up to see if Snape had noticed his hatred, but the face he met was soft and sad. Snape looked tired; not physically, but emotionally.

“You don’t want to,” the man whispered, the words barely audible.

Draco didn’t say anything. He looked away, thinking desperately.

“Draco…” The professor’s tone urged him to look up, to meet his gaze. Seeing the question there, he shook his head slowly.

Snape took a deep breath, watching him, thinking. “There is another choice,” he said, finally. “I should not ask this of a child, but…”

“What?” Draco asked, throwing caution to the wind. If he was being offered a chance to turn his back on the one who had shamed his family, he’d take it—if it was a trap, he’d just die that much sooner.

“I…” Snape paused; a long, fearful silence. “I am a spy,” he breathed.

“A… spy?” Draco’s eyes widened and he breathed in sharply. “You mean… You’re saying that…” He went quiet, rapidly calculating the implications. Snape was acting as a double agent, most likely feeding false information to Voldemort whilst relaying the Dark Lord’s plans to Albus Dumbledore. He was offering Draco the same position, to relay false information. “I… I-”

“It’s dangerous, Draco. I don’t want to see you become a Death Eater and make the same mistakes as both your father and I did, but I don’t want to put you in such danger, either. If-”

“I’ll do it!” He had to. He hated Voldemort, and how better to avenge his father’s pride and name than from underneath the Dark Lord himself? “Please, let me!”

Snape’s whole demeanour changed. His eyes narrowed and he laughed bitterly. “Of all people, Mr. Malfoy… Considering your relationship with Potter, I would never have thought-”

“I don’t care about Potter!” Draco yelled. “I don’t care about Weasley or the Mudblood, either! I’ve seen what he did to my father. I won’t just roll over and play dead and let him use me like all of those other fools! I don’t care how I do it, but I will bring respect back to the Malfoy name!”

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy,” ordered Snape sharply, but the moment Draco did as he said, the harsh expression changed once more to the softer, tired face. “I see. I’m afraid that I greatly underestimated you.” Then, he smiled, just barely, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Although I know well the dangers involved, I think that this is the better path. After all, Mr. Potter has been fighting this war all his life. I can’t imagine you letting him take all the glory.”

Draco sneered and looked away, but inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. This was the beginning. He could no longer idly watch from the sidelines. He had chosen his team. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered quietly.

“Don’t thank me,” Snape replied with a deep sigh. “Never thank me. I’m being selfish. Perhaps it would be easier to let you-”

“No.” Draco stood and walked over to the fireplace, picking up a portrait from the year he had begun school. In it, Lucius Malfoy looked as regal as a king, his son and heir by his side. That was how it was meant to be.

Snape said nothing more; he simply stood and left, releasing the silencing spell as he walked out.

“Upside down,” Draco murmured to himself. “My world is turning upside down.”

*

Severus Snape sighed deeply and sank into his armchair by the fire, massaging the center of his forehead in an attempt to banish a slight headache. When he looked up, Heero was standing in front of him.

“You look tired,” the Muggle pointed out, leaning against the edge of the stone hearth.

“I’m fine,” Severus replied.

“You don’t look it.”

“If you must know, I’m sick of baby-sitting children who wish to play in an adult’s world!” the Professor snapped, glaring angrily until the energy drained from him and he slumped back in the seat. “Draco Malfoy has shown his true colours… He refuses to be used by the Dark Lord and has thus agreed to become a spy as I am, and as you—hopefully—will soon be.”

“Can he be trusted?” Heero asked immediately.

“I believe so,” Snape answered, closing his eyes. When they opened again, there was a determined and angry fire there. “Yes. He can be trusted. Now, we must make the Dark Lord say the same of you.”

Heero nodded, glancing at the sand turner with the hour shining brightly in the glass. It was  
almost midnight. 

“Mr. Yuy.” Snape held out a green jewel. “Do remember that failure will cost your life or worse.”

Despite himself, Heero smirked and clasped his own hand over the jewel. “If I didn’t know  
better, I’d say you were worried about me.”

A moment later, there was a rough jerk, and suddenly they were hurtling through space.

*

Snape made his way through the circle of Death Eaters, Heero following behind him. A knot of nervousness was building in his stomach that he hadn’t felt for a long time.

“My Lord,” he greeted, falling to one knee before the cloaked figure who sat on a mockery of a throne painted mostly in black with hints of green and silver.

“Severus, who is this?” The Dark Lord questioned. His attention was already on Heero.

“My Lord, allow me to introduce you to Heero Yuy. I believe that this boy may be of use to you, for he holds a strong hatred of Muggles but can easily blend in.” Snape cautiously looked up to gauge Voldemort’s reaction. So far, it was neutral. “He is a squib, my Lord.”

“Pray tell, what use I might have for such a… person,” Voldemort hissed, still looking at Heero.

Snape looked back down at the ground. “Forgive my intrusion, but I do not trust the Muggle Khushrenada. I think it would be wise to infiltrate his ranks with a subject loyal to you who knows the ways of Muggles and would not be caught out.”

“You would endanger me so by bringing this boy here?” Voldemort asked darkly. “Do you not trust that I can handle a stupid Muggle, Severus?” The rage grew quickly, but faded just as fast. “Ah, but I do not believe that is the case. You do well to prove your loyalty, Severus, but this is one discrepancy that shall not go unpunished. First, I will deal with the boy, and then with your presumptuousness.”

“But, my Lord-!”

“Who sent you, boy?” Voldemort snarled, cutting Snape off.

The Potions Master had no choice but to back off and join the ranks of the surrounding Death Eaters.

“No-one,” Heero replied squarely.

“Crucio!”

Heero fell to the floor, writhing and screaming. His body thrashed about violently, completely out of control. The spell lasted for no more than five seconds, but to Snape, that time seemed much longer.

“Who do you work for? You are one of the five Muggle fools, correct?”

“I work for no-one,” Heero answered through grit teeth, pushing himself into a kneeling position on shaking limbs.

“CRUCIO!” Voldemort cried again.

Once more, Heero fell to the floor, convulsing and crying out. Ten seconds later, he was released from the torture and sat up once again. His legs were twitching slightly, and a trickle of blood ran from his nose that he wiped away with a shaking hand. He sat up straight and looked directly into the Dark Lord’s eyes.

“Who is your master?” Voldemort asked, his voice nothing more than a dangerous hiss.

“I am my own,” Heero replied in a voice that was hoarse from screaming.

“Very well… Imperio!”

Snape choked on his breath. This was a method he had not considered. Heero had been briefed on the three Unforgivable Curses, but he had never experienced them. Snape wasn’t even sure that a Muggle could resist the Imperius Curse, no matter how much training he went through or how strong his will.

“Now, tell me the truth,” Voldemort commanded. “Who sent you?”

Heero’s eyes had grown dull, and he stared straight ahead at Voldemort. As he opened his mouth to speak, all the blood in Snape’s veins turned to ice.

“I was sent… by… no-one,” Heero answered in a monotone voice. 

“Why did you come?”

“My father was a Muggle. It is his fault that I am a squib. I want revenge on all Muggles for diluting my blood. I want to serve you, the one who can make this ambition a reality.”

Voldemort considered him a moment, and then lifted the curse, seemingly convinced. However, even as breath resumed its flow through Severus’ lungs, the relief was washed away.

“It appears that you have told me the truth, boy, but I have no need for a mud-blooded squib like you,” Voldemort hissed, and Snape knew what was coming, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Avada Kedavra!”

A beam of green light sped towards Heero but the boy didn’t even flinch. A split second before the spell hit, it was stopped by a swish of Voldemort’s wand.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed to slits, and his wand stayed trained on Heero. The entire crowd of Death Eaters was silent, and watched on in anticipation.

“Not a flinch, boy,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. “Not a flicker of fear… Do you know what would have happened the moment that curse connected?”

“I would die,” Heero answered calmly.

“How foolish. Do you not fear death?” Voldemort asked sceptically.

“I welcome it,” Heero answered, in that same dead pan voice.

Voldemort’s wand lowered slowly. “Perhaps you are not so worthless after all, boy… Come here.”

Heero did so without a moment of hesitation. Voldemort took his wrist, shifted the sleeve, and grinned. A pair of glistening fangs grew down from the top of his mouth, stretching and contorting his upper jaw. He raised Heero’s wrist to his mouth, and then bit down.

The boy barely winced as the fangs sank in, and then his skin began to boil and bubble, blistering and breaking until the Dark Mark appeared. The sight made Snape want to be sick. His mark had been the result of a spell, not this horrible mutation. He was extremely glad that his post as a Professor allowed him to miss other initiations.

“You may amuse me yet, boy,” Voldemort hissed thoughtfully. Then, he dropped Heero’s arm. “This mark shall act as a Port Key to and from my presence, according to my will. When it is activated, you will be brought to me no matter where you are or what you are doing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Heero intoned, sinking into a bow.

“I will call for you soon when I have decided how you can best serve me, boy.” Voldemort leaned forward and tipped Heero’s chin up so that the boy could see the dark depths of his unholy eyes. “Do not dare to disappoint me.”

*

The moment they arrived back in the Hog’s Head Tavern, Heero collapsed. Snape only just caught him and helped him over to the bed. The tight control he’d held over his body was gone, and his very muscles were trembling. He took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself to sit up, only to be shoved back down.

“Idiot!” Snape snapped. “Just rest!”

Heero didn’t have much choice but to comply. His battered body did the job for him. Besides, his mind was also exhausted from fighting off the Imperious curse, and hiding the fact that he was doing so.

“Why do you all have to be bloody martyrs?” Snape grumbled, pressing a cool cloth to Heero’s forehead a moment later. “I’m no healer, but even I can see that you need rest.”

When Heero opened his eyes again, he saw that Snape was shaking with the release of either suppressed rage or fear. “Severus,” he rasped. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” Snape insisted. “For all I care, you could be the spawn of Merlin, but you’re still susceptible to pain. That’s what the Cruciatus Curse is. The very embodiment of pure pain. Add to that the mental strain of resisting Imperious, a near brush with Avada Kedavra, and the application of a strange aberration of the Dark Mark, and you should be unconscious, at best.”

Heero sighed and closed his eyes. He reached up and grabbed Snape’s wrist, removing the cloth from his brow. “There’s no need to take care of me. I’ll be fine.”

“You will not be fine!” Snape knocked his hand aside and returned the cloth to where it had been. “However, if you won’t sleep, then tell me how you managed to defeat the Imperious Curse.”

“I thought he might try that, so I applied my ability to regulate my body, expression, and reaction, whilst mentally resisting the curse’s pull.” Heero seemed to be getting a little drowsy, growing quieter as he spoke. “I have a strong will.”

“You do,” Snape whispered, stroking his hair back and off of his face. “I was worried. For a moment.”

“I knew it,” Heero muttered, leaning into the hand caressing his forehead. He opened his eyes a little and smiled up at Snape. “You’re a lot like Duo,” he said, but before he could explain the thought, he was asleep, allowing his body some much needed rest.


	31. Chapter 31

Tuesday was quite average as far as Tuesdays go. Snape had been as snide as usual during Potions, Herbology had been terribly boring, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was a theory lesson on deflecting higher level dark curses. By the evening, Harry wanted nothing but to find Wufei, curl up, and get an early night’s sleep. However, he wasn’t allowed that luxury.

Harry arrived at his first detention in a split frame of mind. Part of him was determined to master Occlumency so that he would not be used again, but the other part loathed the idea of having to rely on Snape to do so. He spared not a thought for detention and what horrible tasks Snape could devise for him.

The moment he knocked on Snape’s office door, a sneering voice bade him to enter.

“I’m here, sir,” Harry said absently.

“I can see that, Potter.” Snape threw a rag at him. “Get to work, I want to see each and every vile and beaker spotless within an hour.”

Looking over at the far wall, Harry sighed. There was a lot of equipment over there, and none of it was ever properly cleaned. He wondered absently if Snape simply didn’t know any cleaning spells, or if he just left the grime as a possible detention device. It was probably the former, seeing as the man couldn’t even properly wash his hair.

Setting to work, Harry concentrated on reminding himself of what Occlumency entailed. He knew he had to try and keep Snape out of his mind without the use of his wand. The only time he’d succeeded even a little was when Snape had almost seen the kiss between him and Cho Chang and Harry had subconsciously thrown a spell at him in desperation, thus breaking the connection.

Before he knew it, the hour was up and Snape loomed over him, sneering down at his labor. “How pathetic, Mr. Potter. Not even half done. Well, I don’t think I’ll bother with Occlumency tonight, since you don’t seem to be showing any enthusiasm…”

“Please, sir!” Harry yelled, throwing pride to the wind. “I have to learn, I have to-”

“Oh, very well.” Snape very nearly rolled his eyes, and then aimed a spell into the middle of the classroom, clearing the desks. That was followed by a spell to lock the door. “I expect you to practice hard this time, Potter. If you do not, then I will refuse you any more lessons.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered with a nod of his head.

Before he could ready himself, Snape cried “Legilimens” and Harry’s world shifted.

Memories, recent and old slammed through his mind, and then one singular vivid image: Sirius falling through the archway; Sirius dying.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” Harry screamed, barely registering the hard floor beneath his knees. His eyes were swimming with tears and he was trembling. “No,” he whispered.

“Get up, Potter,” Snape ordered coldly, but when Harry looked up he saw that the Potions Master looked pale and slightly sick. “Focus your mind and we’ll try again.”

Wiping away his tears, Harry nodded grimly, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. It was so hard to block out the image of Sirius and he felt guilty for trying. Just when he thought it was hopeless, a memory of being held by Wufei popped into his mind. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ his lover said, kissing him softly on the forehead.

Suddenly calm, Harry opened his eyes and nodded, slightly surprised to see Snape waiting patiently for him. 

The professor raised his wand. “Legilimens!”

This time, the memories were hard to see; hazy, as though they were deep at the bottom of a pool of water. Even so, a force seemed to be pulling Harry toward them, making them clearer, and he fought, but it was no use. Soon they became obvious: Harry and Wufei lying under the stars, Wufei kicking Dudley’s arse, Harry’s first real birthday… These were happy memories, ones that Harry wanted to see more of, so he let himself be pulled deeper: Harry and Wufei kissing goodbye on the Hogwarts Express, and then… Harry staring down at his boyfriend as they made love.

Almost lost in the moment, something, perhaps the outside perspective, reminded Harry that he was not alone in viewing the scene. A long moment of shock passed, and then he pushed away with all of his might, back to the surface where the memories were no more coherent than a malfunctioning T.V. screen.

And then, suddenly, he opened his eyes, and he was still on his feet, staring Snape down. Defiantly, he lifted his chin, waiting for the inevitable.

“Not bad, Potter. You almost improved. However, your weakness for your …boyfriend-” He spat the word. “Is exactly the sort of thing that the Dark Lord will use against you. I suggest you fight much harder to keep away from any image of that Muggle or you will betray yourself in an instant.” Snape’s eyes glinted maliciously and it was obvious that the whole thing was extremely entertaining to him. Harry forced down his anger, saving it for later. He could take whatever Snape threw at him if it meant protecting Wufei from Voldemort’s sight. “Now, focus again, but do not think of him, do you understand?”

Blushing and feeling rather humiliated in the way that no taunting and jibing could achieve, Harry nodded and bowed his head in concentration. However, the rest of the lesson bore much of the same, and by the time he left, Harry was sure that Snape was storing away his observations as potent blackmail material or something else equally as devastating.

*

Duo shivered. Apparently, he should have worn his warm robes. Shaking his head, he shuffled closer to Trowa and slipped his arms around his lover’s waist. 

Trowa looked down at him and smiled before kissing him softly. Burying his hands in Trowa’s hair, Duo sighed. Suddenly, he felt much warmer.

By the time they pulled apart, Professor McGonagall was approaching, chuckling softly. “Hagrid will be around with the carriage in a moment,” she told them. “I suggest you get it out of your systems before you reach Hogsmeade,” she said, turning away to survey the stars.

Duo grinned, jumped, and licked Trowa’s nose, catching his lover by surprise. Recoiling, Trowa wiped his nose and attempted to glare.

“What?” Duo asked innocently. “She said to get it out of our systems. I’ve been meaning to do that for ages.”

“I think, Duo,” Trowa said, grabbing him, “She meant this,” he finished, and proceeded to kiss Duo to within an inch of his life.

Satisfied to a degree, they huddled together and waited. Duo spotted the carriage first. The light wood was easy to see in the semi-dark, and more visible still was the hulking Hagrid leading it. But it took a little longer for Duo to spot the horses. They were all black and seemed to blend in with the night. However, as they got closer, Duo got a much better look. He blinked several times and then gasped. “Trowa, look! They have wings! They’re all black and they have wings, and holy shit they’re so fucking cool!”

Trowa didn’t seem to share Duo’s excitement, shivering almost imperceptibly, but Duo was too taken with the creatures to notice. As soon as the coach stopped, he ran up to the nearest one and ran his hand down its snout. He looked into the red eyes and instantly made a friend. After scratching its head for a moment, he moved down its body, gaping in awe at the half-stripped flesh. 

“Does it have a name?” he called to Hagrid, inspecting the fine black tail that seemed to have survived the degradation of its hide.

“A name? Well, no. Thestrals don’t respond to names,” Hagrid answered, sounding perplexed.

“Shinigami,” Duo whispered, back up near the creatures head. He looked it in the eyes and nodded. “Shinigami’s a perfect name for you.” The Thestral whinnied and tossed its head then nudged Duo’s hand, prompting him to pat it once more.

“Duo, if you’re done we should get going,” Trowa called to him from the carriage door, eyeing the Thestrals warily.

“Right boys, this carriage’s yours ta use. Take good care o’ the Thestrals, eh? They eat meat carcasses and they get rather hungry so be sure ta feed ‘em regularly. Oh, and keep in mind that no’ everyone can see ‘em, only those who have witnessed death, and most people won’ admit that readily,” Hagrid instructed, patting each Thestral on the nose a couple of times. “Well, they’re all yours.”

“Good luck boys, and if anyone refers to you as Squibs make sure to look properly bitter. We don’t want anyone guessing you’re Muggles,” McGonagall warned. “And do try to keep your hands off each other in public,” she added.

“Sure thing m’lady,” Duo called, grinning brightly enough to worry even Trowa.

Hagrid whispered a couple of words to the Thestrals, and then the powerful creatures took off, thundering towards Hogsmeade with Duo and Trowa happily concealed in the carriage.

*

Quatre had said his goodbyes to Duo and Trowa and then returned to the Slytherin common room where he was once again the centre of speculation. Apparently, the nosy kids couldn’t get over the fact that he was starting as a sixth year. 

After half an hour of dodging questions and trying to learn useful tidbits without seeming not to know, Quatre escaped to the room he shared with Draco and threw himself down on the bed with a growl. Students could be so nosy. That was why he’d avoided using schools as cover for the majority of his career, unlike Duo and Heero.

Rolling over, he sighed and snuggled into the pillow. He wasn’t particularly tired but he had nothing better to do. Wait, on second thought, he did.

Getting up, Quatre collected a selection of books that he was expected to read. Perusing the titles, he decided to read over the one on Potions. He understood that subject to a certain extent. It was just like chemistry, really. The hardest part would be learning all the roots, leaves, and other less savory ingredients and their properties. Once he began to get the hang of that, he’d have very little trouble with the subject.

Divination, on the other hand, seemed to be a whole lot of mumbo jumbo. Dumbledore seemed to think that it was important to Quatre’s empathy but even untrained as he was, Quatre could see that his raw talent was more useful than any amount of newt gut readings or lacerations in balls of crystal.

At least, that was the impression he’d gotten from his divination lesson first thing in the morning. The day had started with an argument between Trelawney and her crystal ball which ended up with shattered pieces all over the floor and a dramatic puff of smoke from the fireplace. The batty old woman took their Tuesday morning Divination class whilst Thursdays were apparently led by a centaur in a downstairs classroom that replicated a wild forest. Quatre could only hope that that teacher made a little more sense.

“I’ll give you a hint right now,” Draco said as he spotted the title of the Divination book Quatre had moved onto while he passed by to his own bed. “Make it up. Everyone else does.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll follow that advice,” Quatre said.

He put the book down with a sigh and resolved to return to it after reading several chapters of the Dark Arts theory book that was next on the pile.

“You really are going to do this properly, aren’t you?” said Draco, frowning as he watched Quatre begin on the next book.

“Huh?” Quatre looked up, confused by the question. “Of course I am.”

Draco just stared at him for a moment longer and then rolled to the side of his bed and rummaged around in his trunk. When Quatre next looked up, the other boy seemed to be writing a letter.

*

Draco’s quill moved pointlessly over the page. He had to do something to stop from staring at Quatre, but it wasn’t like he could really send his father a letter with everything he wanted to say. Instead, he wrote. He wrote out all of his confusion, fully intending for it to meet the fireplace when the other boy wasn’t looking.

Despite his determination and reassurances to Snape, Draco hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about things. He knew he had to relay misinformation to the Dark Lord, which was easy enough, but he also had to look like he was watching Quatre closely. Who knew what other student had been set to watching Draco himself?

Surely the Dark Lord knew how much Draco hated him. Surely it was obvious that he was burning for revenge. But if that was the case, then why would he be entrusted with such a task? It implied that either the Dark Lord expected his betrayal or he was expected to simply obey.

Maybe he should ask Snape for some tips on how to handle the situation. Then again, he couldn’t be seen talking to Snape any more than the guise of favoured student and Head of House allowed.

“Draco?”

Draco started, realizing that he’d been staring out the window for some time. He turned back to Quatre who nodded at his parchment. Looking down, he scowled at the ink-splashed page, above which his quill was dripping. Furious with himself for such vagueness, Draco scrunched up the parchment and tossed it into the fire, watching as it curled and burned into ash.

“Is something wrong?” Quatre asked, book-marking the page he was reading from the DADA book. 

“Nothing,” Draco muttered, slamming the quill down on top of his trunk and rolling over as he pulled the covers up over his body.

“Suit yourself,” he heard Quatre mumble, the rustling of paper signifying his return to the book.

But try as he might, Draco could not sleep. He kept turning the same thoughts over and over in his mind. Maybe he should be seen following Quatre from time to time, or maybe that would be too suspicious since he already lived with the boy. And what information should he relay? He couldn’t say anything that looked too fabricated but he could not tell the truth, either. However, he also couldn’t refrain from sending word of the obvious. 

And then to make matters worse, how was he supposed to contact the Dark Lord? Surely Dumbledore would be on the look-out for that sort of thing. It wasn’t like he could request special privileges because he’d told Snape he would act as a double agent. He had to figure that out by himself.

Suddenly, he felt his chest tighten as he realized something. Soon, the Dark Lord would call upon him to have the mark bestowed. He would be branded… owned…

“I’m not your cattle!” he screamed, sitting bolt upright.

He sat there for a moment, shaking and terrified, until he slowly realized that he was in his room, and beside him on the floor was Quatre who had shaken him awake. The room was dark. Apparently his roommate had stopped reading a while ago. 

“What’s the time?” he muttered with dignity, gritting his teeth against the embarrassment of being caught in a nightmare.

“I think it’s around one o’clock,” Quatre answered, slowly climbing to his feet.

Draco suddenly realized that he was clutching his left forearm. Quickly, he let it go, wondering if Quatre had noticed. Looking around ensured him that everything was as it should be and he slowly relaxed back.

To his credit, Quatre didn’t mention the nightmare. He simply climbed back into bed and said goodnight. Draco, on the other hand, did not sleep at all for the rest of the night, leaving him tired and grumpy for the coming day.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That citrus you smell? That's a lemon coming up this chapter...

“Impedimenta!”

“Ah, thank you Miss Weasely,” said Professor Peacecraft, subtly releasing the spell. “That was a wonderful example. If both you and Miss Lauren would resume you seats…”

Pleased, Ginny sat back down in the second row, listening to the professor’s improvised lecture on self defense based on Ginny’s duel with Laura Lauren. Of course, having learned so much in the DA, it got boring rather quickly.

She hardly noticed herself zoning out and reflecting on her last attempt at transformation the night before. She was getting much better at it, but what she hadn’t counted on was how exhausting it would be when her body actually began shifting.

Unconsciously, she began shifting her feet back and forth: paws—feet—paws—feet—paws—forelegs…

“Ginevra!”

She started, looking up at Professor Peacecraft. At first, she wondered what he’d been saying that she didn’t respond to, but then she noticed the cold, steely look in his eyes. He wasn’t looking beneath the table but he knew. Somehow, she could tell.

“Go up to my office,” he said quietly, dangerously.

Swallowing, Ginny nodded, gathered up her books, and did as she was told. She felt tears begin to swell in her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? She was too cocky, and now she’d been caught…

“Ginny?”

She froze in the doorway. “Remus,” she whispered, then ran towards him, falling into his extended arms, still clutching her book bag.

“Ginny, what happened?” Remus asked, full of concern.

A moment later, Professor Peacecraft appeared in the doorway, closing the door behind him. “Would you care to explain yourself? And don’t coddle her, Remus. You’re a bad enough influence as it is.”

Ginny backed away from Remus in an effort to protect him from guilt by association. Dropping her eyes, she let her bag fall to the floor, sniffling.

“Milliardo, what-?”

“Either shut up or leave, this is a serious issue that must be dealt with teacher to student,” the professor snapped, his glare still fully on Ginny. “How long has this been going on?”

“It’s not… I mean, I wasn’t just messing around. It was just an exercise. I’m already able to fully transform, and-”

Professor Peacecraft groaned. “Do you know how… how dangerous…? How long have you been working on the transformation?”

“Since last year,” Ginny whispered almost imperceptibly.

The professor’s voice wavered. “Only a year? Alone?”

She shook her head, glancing at Remus from beneath her hair. “Sirius…” she whispered, afraid to say more.

There was shocked silence for a little too long, and then the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor turned to his partner. “Did you know about this?”

Remus shook his head, looking far too pale.

“He… didn’t want you to be angry, so he didn’t say anything,” Ginny mumbled, her face still hidden behind a vivid red shield.

“Oh, Ginny…” Despite the angry glare turned on him, Remus rushed to her and gathered her into his arms. “Why? Why would you risk yourself like that?”

“I want to be useful!” Ginny cried, finally trying to justify herself. “When the time comes… I want to be someone who can stand by Harry’s side and protect what’s important!”

“He would fall for that drivel, wouldn’t he?” Remus asked weakly, sighing. He looked up at Milliardo over Ginny’s head, his eyes pleading.

“Remus, no… The Headmaster needs to know about this,” Milliardo argued, perfectly understanding the silent question.

“Do you think he doesn’t already?” the werewolf posed, raising his eyebrows.

“Surely he wouldn’t permit…”

“Wouldn’t he?”

“Remus… I can’t ignore this.” This time, Milliardo was pleading.

Remus had him right where he wanted him. “Then don’t,” he said, grinning. “After all, who better to guide a student than a teacher… and an animagus?”

“Oh no… No. No! ...Don’t look at me like that!”

Hesitantly, Ginny looked sideways through her hair, unable to believe her luck. If he agreed…

“How better to ensure her safety?” Remus continued. “It’s too late now. She says she’s already achieved the transformation.”

Milliardo glared at him, then sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I’ll think about it, but don’t think I’ve ruled out turning her in,” he added, more defensively than as a warning.

“Oh, professor, would you?” Ginny cried, her whole face lighting up as she straightened out of Remus’ arms.

“I said I’ll think about it,” he returned somewhat bitterly. “And don’t you try ANYTHING until I give you my answer. Now, I have a class to complete. You… Stay here, and… Oh, wipe that smug grin off your face!” he snapped, and stalked out of the room.

Excited, Ginny turned back to Remus, but her grin faded at his stern look.

“He’s right, Ginny. What you’ve been doing is dangerous. I must admit I’m disappointed that Sirius would… I mean… He should have known better,” the werewolf ended in a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny mumbled truthfully. “But I meant what I said. I won’t stand by and watch helplessly while my friends and family fight,” she added, lifting her chin defiantly.

“Of course you won’t,” Remus sighed, grinning ever so slightly. “You’re as bad as those brothers of yours.” Suddenly, he realized something. “Oh, Ginny! What about Molly and Arthur? Do they know?”

“Of course not!” Ginny cried indignantly. “My mother would kill me! Oh you won’t tell them, will you? They’ll stop me!”

“They’d have every right to,” Lupin reprimanded. “No. No, I won’t tell them, but only if you promise never to try this again without Milliardo.”

“I promise!” Ginny agreed brightly.

“Does anyone else know about this?” Remus asked, flopping back down onto the couch where he’d been peacefully seated before Ginny’s distraught entrance.

“Harry and Hermione… Bill knows.” Ginny sat down beside him, dragging her books towards her feet. “I think Fred and George suspect something, but that’s it.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Remus sighed.

After a moment, Ginny rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you. If you hadn’t stuck up for me I’d be in hot water.”

“Couldn’t help it,” Remus groaned. “You’re as irresponsible as they were.”

“Why, thank you!”

*

Wufei flipped the page, thoroughly absorbed in the book he’d been lent. It was all about dark curses and their effects. It even went into Occlumency and Legilimens, which was what he was reading when someone came up behind him.

“Don’t take another step,” he mumbled, finishing his paragraph and marking it with his thumb before he swivelled to see who was behind him. “Oh, Harry. You should have said something.”

“But it’s so cute when you get all soldier-like,” Harry said with a grin.

Unbidden, Wufei grimaced. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.

Harry’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… It’s difficult for you,” he sighed, leaning down to embrace his boyfriend. “If it wasn’t for me you, would have escaped-”

“Don’t say that, either,” Wufei bade him, groping for the nearest chair and pulling it up for Harry to sit in.

Arms still around Wufei’s shoulders, Harry sank into the chair, resting his head on the boy’s shoulder. “What are you reading?” he asked, changing the subject none too subtly. Without waiting for an answer, Harry scanned the page. “Do you really have to read this junk? All those books on me…”

“I want to be able to protect you,” Wufei whispered, turning his face so that his lips brushed Harry’s temple. “I need to know as much as I can.”

“Wufei…” Harry tilted his face up. “Promise me… Promise me you’ll never do anything drastic like sacrifice yourself,” he begged, suddenly desperate for that security.

“I’ll do what I have to,” Wufei answered, not quite looking Harry in the eyes.

“Promise me!” Harry cried, a little too loudly.

“Shhh!” Wufei scolded. “That damn librarian barely let me in here as it is.” He did look into Harry’s eyes as he spoke, accidentally, but the damage was done. He couldn’t look away. “Harry, I love you. Whatever it takes…”

“Promise me,” Harry pleaded, his eyes brimming with tears.

How could he not? Wufei sighed, knowing that he had no choice when Harry begged him so fiercely. It was what his lover needed to hear, but he knew that if it came to it he would break that promise in a heartbeat.

“I promise,” he said, giving in as Harry kissed him. When they parted, he brushed back Harry’s fringe, his eyes lingering on the lightning shaped scar. “But only if you promise the same.”

“I can’t,” Harry growled in frustration, pulling away. “I’m The Boy Who Lived. I have to face Voldemort sooner or later, and one of us…”

“That won’t be you, Harry,” Wufei insisted, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist from behind. “I promise that.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just leaned against Wufei’s chest, wrapping his own arms over Wufei’s.

“I don’t care what anyone else calls you. I love you,” Wufei breathed into his ear.

“Thank you, ‘Fei,” Harry sighed, resting his head back against Wufei’s shoulder and staring up at the stacks of books. “I love you, too.”

*

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” called Parvati from her bed where she sat brushing her hair in a mirror she’d conjured.

“Hang on!” cried Lavender. “Parvati, I’m changing,” she hissed. “What if it’s-”

“It’s just me, Ginny.”

“Oh, well come in then,” Lavender amended.

Ginny opened the door, glanced at Lavender, blushed, and then quickly closed the door though no-one was out in the hallway. “Sorry. Is Hermione here?”

“Try the library,” Parvati sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, thanks.”

“By the way, I heard something on the grapevine,” Lavender called before Ginny could escape.

“Oh, really?” Ginny asked.

“Rumor has it that Dean wants you back,” Parvati added.

“Too bad for him I’m already seeing someone,” Ginny said mysteriously before renewing her escape.

“Who?” Both girls shrieked excitedly, but Ginny was out the door and down the stairs.

*

“The…” Hermione frowned, waiting for the pattern to play through again. She’d gotten used to the specific clicks and whistles and knew when the message began and ended. She waited for the beginning to play through again until she reached the sequence she was up to. Committing it to memory, she referenced her book. “P...A…e? No… I. P.A.I…R! Pair! The pair of, um, Y… You…?”

“Hermione?”

Hermione jumped, startled by Ginny who had crept up on her in her secluded corner of the library. “Oh, hi, Gin,” she said.

“Still working on that thing?” Ginny sighed.

“Yeah. Ginny, it’s just so…” She cut off. She wouldn’t tell anyone about it until it was finished, and seeing as it was for Harry… “Is something up?”

Ginny suddenly turned sheepish, avoiding Hermione’s eyes as she sunk into a chair. “I, uh, was doing a shifting exercise in class today...”

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Hermione tutted worriedly.

“No,” Ginny replied quickly. “Actually… Professor Peacecraft found out.”

“Oh no,” Hermione moaned.

“But it’s okay!” Ginny reassured her quickly. “Remus stood up for me and even made him consider helping me. He is an animagus after all.”

“That would be wonderful!” Hermione cried a little too loudly. She paused, listening for Madam Pince, but heard nothing. “I mean, I’ve read a lot about it, but I’m sure it would be much better to have someone who really knows what they’re talking about.” Her attitude changed rapidly. “Still, you must be more careful. Imagine if Professor Snape had caught you. Or worse, Professor McGonagal.”

“Worse than Snape?” Ginny muttered skeptically. Then she grimaced. “I suppose so. Oh I hope he agrees to do it!”

“I’m sure he will,” Hermione said with a slight grin. “Lupin has a rather persuasive hold over him.”

The two girls giggled and Ginny moved to a closer seat. “You know, Lavender and Parvati told me Dean wanted me back.”

“Oh? And what did you say?” Hermione asked, feigning concern.

“That I was taken. Oh they were rife with curiosity,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“I’ll bet,” Hermione mumbled, her eyes on Ginny’s lips.

*

Zechs leaned against the doorway, sighing before his eyes lifted to Remus’ face. The werewolf was marking a stack of third year homework assignments, rather obviously engaging himself so that Zechs would have to initiate the conversation or possible argument.

“Remus,” he muttered eventually, finally moving into the room, “I may have a somewhat rebellious past…” Oh the irony of saying that to one of the four notoriously famous Hogwarts pranksters. “But I am a teacher,” he continued firmly.

“You are, and you’re a good one. But…” Remus stood up, carefully placing his quill in its holder. “As much as Hogwarts is a school, it is also somewhat of a sanctuary from He—from Voldemort. Dumbledore must know what Ginny’s been up to, and if he hasn’t stopped her before now then he must have good reason. Isn’t it better to guide her at this point?”

Zechs stayed where he was, stubbornly making Remus come to him out of some twinge of damaged pride. “I’ll do it,” he admitted. “Conditionally.”

“That’s my Millie,” Remus muttered wickedly, slipping his arms about Zechs’ neck.

“Don’t call me that!” Zechs groaned. Disgruntled, the animagus tried to disengage himself and change the subject. “How’s the homework, half decent?”

Remus sighed, refusing to let him escape. “You really are determined to work yourself to the bone, aren’t you?”

“And you, my furry friend,” Zechs growled, turning on him, “Are determined to distract me.”

Remus grinned, pulling Zechs towards him and sliding his arms around his lover’s waist. “Only enough that you need my help to catch up,” he whispered, his breath barely caressing Zechs’ lips.

“Stop that,” Zechs mumbled, though there wasn’t much of anything to stop.

“Make me,” Remus retorted before kissing him gently.

After a few seconds, Zechs broke the kiss. “Remus, you really do too much for someone who’s not on an official salary,” he said quietly. “There’s a reason Dumbledore took you off staff.”

Remus growled, his eyes glimmering with betrayal. “I’ve recovered since then.”

“Have you?” Zechs asked softly, not wanting to press, but reassured that he had a good reason to probe.

“Thanks to you,” Remus answered uncertainly, pouting like a juvenile in response to the doubt.

Zechs smiled, reassured, and briefly touched his lips to his lover’s. “I was going to save this for tonight,” he began, flicking out his wand and summoning in a document. He led Remus back over to the couch and levitated the stacks of homework to his desk in the corner. “I talked it over with Dumbledore last night,” he began, sitting and pulling Remus down into his lap while sliding the paper into his lover’s hands. “We agreed that I could use an official teaching assistant. As I’m sure was your plan, my entire teaching method is now dependant on you and the annoyingly comfortable system we’ve stumbled across. How about it? Will you work with me?”

Remus hardly waited for him to finish before kissing him hard. Zechs didn’t even get a breath in before his lips were covered and his nose smushed. He submitted easily to the kiss, his arms encircling Remus even as the older man’s fingers curled in his hair, cradling his neck and skull and forcing the kiss deeper. Their tongues meshed, curling and dancing whilst their lips brushed and caressed sensually. The unsigned dowcument lay forgotten on the floor.

Zechs hardly noticed his robes disappear, his underclothes mysteriously vanishing piece by piece. Meanwhile, he’d managed to throw off Remus’ outer robe, the werewolf kneeling over him, his ass rocking over Zechs’ thighs.

Panting for air as his lover moved on, licking at his neck like a playful dog, Zechs fumbled with the rest of Remus’ clothes, slowly and clumsily. He gasped as Remus sucked a nipple into his mouth, dragging his nails down Zechs’ stomach.

Gasping, Zechs grasped Remus shoulder, pushing him back. He glared into his lover’s eyes, waiting for Remus to get a hold of himself.

“Bad puppy, no scratching,” he scolded.

“Sorry,” Remus whispered, blushing.

Zechs laughed. “You know, I really don’t mind, but you asked me to tell you off. There’s really no need to take it to heart.”

“It’s a bad habit,” Remus muttered. “Don’t take it lightly, Zechs. If I bit you…”

“I know, I know, no rough play,” Zechs mumbled with a pout.

“It’s just as bad a habit for you, you know,” Remus muttered, frowning at him.

“Spare me the lecture. I’m not the one-” Zechs cut himself off. It was no use going into this again, they’d done it too many times already and this was a time to celebrate. “I’m sorry,” he finished.

“Me too,” Remus sighed, leaning against Zechs’ body. After a while he shifted slightly, seeming uncomfortable.

“What?” Zechs asked, knowing that Remus wanted to say something.

“Was he really that rough?” the werewolf asked hesitantly.

Zechs let his arm slide down to Remus’ hip, staring off at the far wall. “It’s not like he hurt me badly… I wanted it that way.” He looked down at his lover, brushing his fingers down a flushed cheek. “Now I have another way to make up for my sins. You’re right. It is a bad habit.”

Remus kissed him gently once more, but it quickly grew heated, their earlier enthusiasm returning fast. Soon, both were naked, Zechs stretched out beneath Remus, their groins rubbing idly as they kissed, moaned, licked various sweet spots, and then kissed again.

Zechs’ hands roamed over Remus’ ass as the werewolf sucked on his earlobe, his face buried in the long white hair which covered them both. Growling rather ferally, Remus ground his hips into Zechs’, both of them dissolving into moans.

*

Outside, Harry bit his lip. It wasn’t that he was eaves-dropping, but he’d come to inquire about some cryptic comments Hermione had made in class, and certain sounds… Well he’d wanted to be sure in-case he’d misread, and maybe something was wrong, or… Why hadn’t those two idiots cast a silencing charm?

Blushing fiercely, Harry did exactly that and then hurried off. Wufei should be back at the dorm by now…

*

Between brief kisses, almost enough to just taste Milliardo’s lips, Remus spoke in a desperate, breathy voice. “Do you… want… manually, or-”

Milliardo answered the inarticulate question by fumbling for his wand on the table, holding it down by his backside, and snarling out a spell. The wand clattered to the floor and Milliardo wrapped his legs around Remus so forcefully that the werewolf’s pelvic bone rubbed against his erection.

“Millie,” Remus moaned, “If you don’t give me room to move…” Slowly, the tight grip softened and Remus shifted, pulling his lover a little closer and lifting his hips to get the right angle.

Once more, Milliardo’s powerful legs crushed their bodies together and Remus groaned, his erection rubbing against the animagus’ ass. Panting, he gripped Milliardo’s hips as he slid his cock up and down the man’s crack, trying to find his entrance. Once he managed that, he pressed in just a little.

“Ready?” he wheezed.

Milliardo’s groan was the only answer he received, so he pushed in, drowning in the friction. It wasn’t often he got to be on top in the past. Sirius had dominated him almost every time and with others it was mixed, but only Milliardo ever begged him.

“Remus,” he whispered, his eyes closed tightly.

It wasn’t from pain. That expression had worried Remus in the beginning, but now he knew it for what it was, Milliardo’s way of hiding his pleasure. Why he had to do that bothered Remus even more, but knowing that it was pleasure and not pain kept him from speaking out. Instead, he leaned down and defiled Milliardo’s lips in a highly sensual kiss that had them both panting by the time it was through.

“Please, Remus!” Milliardo groaned.

“Of course, my love,” Remus whispered, drawing back and plunging back in, hard and deep, savoring the moan he received.

It began hard and fast and only escalated until it was Milliardo whose nails scratched down Remus’ back, the werewolf focusing intently on the task at hand, ever careful not to lose himself. He felt Milliardo reach for his own arousal and stroke himself in time with the brutal thrusts, and only when he registered that wet splash against his belly did Remus let go, his own orgasm crashing down on him as he rode it out, finally collapsing over his lover.

Spent and out of breath, Remus reached up, his fingers running over Milliardo’s lips. What he really wanted was another kiss, but that would require moving far too many muscles. He could wait. Probably.

*

Meanwhile, Wufei jumped and set aside his book as Harry’s hand slid into his pants. Damned if he knew where the incentive had come from, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain…


	33. Chapter 33

Snape finished up for the night as early as possible. By 6:00 he was sitting in his study, bored. He felt obliged to check on the Yuy boy, but he couldn’t do that until late. So he sat, picking at his fingernails. He even engaged in a deep inspection of the dirt beneath them, shocked at the amount of grime there. He needed to clean his nails more often. And maybe even wash his hair.

Frowning, he reached up to his head. Apart from his daily routine of scratching the dark, lank locks with a short and soft bristled brush every morning, he rarely paid his hair much attention. Suddenly, he was aware of all the grease and oil of potion fumes and dungeon dust that clung to every strand and particle. 

Holding a couple of bits in front of his face, he studied it for a moment before coming to a decision. It was time for a rinse. 

Maybe Heero would think it looked nice cleaned.

Or, maybe Harry Potter would bow to the floor and lick Snape’s feet… Where in Merlin’s name had that thought come from?

His hair was fine the way it was. He wouldn’t touch it. Not a bit.

Then again, it really was overdue a good scrubbing. Image had nothing to do with it. His hair hung heavily on his head, hot and damp, and when it was washed it would be light and fluffy, and maybe even shiny…

Growling in frustration, Snape jumped out of his chair and strode towards the bathroom. He would damn well wash his hair and that was that!

*

Hours later, Heero Yuy looked up from an inspection of his gun. He surveyed Snape for a moment, then raised his eyebrows. 

“Going somewhere?”

Snape sneered. “I was sadly under the misguided impression that you are not a completely brainless moron, Mr. Yuy. However, if you had even the slightest capacity for thought you might have noticed that I am already ‘somewhere’ as this is not my usual environment and thus, I have nowhere further to go.”

Heero looked back down at his gun, uninterested. “Just thought you were dressed for a date.”

“You thought wrong,” Snape answered regally, taking his seat in the chair he’d transfigured for comfort.

Silence passed between them as Heero continued his examination, finally setting aside his gun, satisfied. When Snape still said nothing, he held the man’s stare for several moments before speaking up.

“Why are you here so soon?” he asked, almost nonchalantly.

“I thought perhaps you had been contacted in my absence,” Snape replied immediately.

“Contacted…” Heero snorted. “More like abducted.”

“Then you have?” Snape hissed, leaning forward.

“No,” Heero replied blankly.

Snape slowly sat back, assuming a neutral expression. “In that case, I shall continue to come here when I can.”

“It’s best not to come here at all,” Heero grumbled. “If we were caught-”

“It is now common knowledge within the Death Eater circles and among various spies that you are connected with the Dark Lord. They have no way of knowing you have not been contacted and are meeting with me for His reasons.” Snape’s chin tilted slightly upwards. “The only one who might know differently is Lucius Malfoy, and he would never-”

“That sniveling coward would not last long under torture.” Heero grimaced. “If you’ll excuse me-”

“Don’t ever say that again.” Snape had him by the collar, the older man’s sneer pressed right into Heero’s face. “Lucius has been through much more than you could imagine. He would not betray me.” 

“Think what you want,” Heero replied calmly, staring evenly into Snape’s eyes and suppressing his defensive instincts.

Slowly, hesitantly, Snape let go.

Almost in-perceivably, Heero shivered. He could still feel the warm breath on his face; the close, tight grip on his shirt, knuckles just brushing his neck…

He had the sudden urge to shake his head but he reined it in, his spine stiffening and eyes narrowing. He’d been through more torture and hardship than Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy combined and with that thought, the jibe belatedly hit home. This fool needed to be reminded that he was not a child.

In an instant, Heero’s gun was in his face, aiming directly between the eyes. “I could shoot you right now. I could torture you by at least thirty two different methods and kill you by at least one hundred more. Your friend is nothing more than a wand-toting coward who hides behind whoever has the upper hand. Never trust anyone, no matter how much you want to. You will always be betrayed.” He waited for Snape’s eyes to leave the gun and meet his own, then slowly lowered it. “And don’t underestimate me or any of the other four. That’s what gets people killed.”

“Perhaps,” Snape began quietly, “You are right.” 

He leaned in a little closer, peering once more into Heero’s eyes. For the first time, Heero wanted to shrink away. Snape had dark eyes, very deep and both forbidding and inviting all at once. It was hard not to stare at them, and that made Heero want to look away. Disgusted with himself, he eventually did.

Snape reached out and gently grasped Heero’s chin, pulling his face back around. “If I was afraid of dying I would be hiding behind the Dark Lord’s robes this very instant. I am not, but I will not underestimate you again.”

“Then allow me to do my job,” Heero said quietly, his voice almost cracking in his throat. “Don’t come here again.”

“I’m not in your way,” Snape muttered, his thumb unconsciously brushing Heero’s cheek.

Rather than pulling away or attacking, or taking any other seemingly rational action, Heero simply stiffened, his body turning rigid. “Not physically,” he almost stuttered, wondering what in the hell was happing to him.

“Then how?” Snape asked, leaning closer, the movement of his lips catching Heero’s eye. 

Gaze flicking back up to Snape’s, Heero continued to stay frozen whilst willing his body to move, to retreat and regroup. So, when Snape kissed him, surprisingly soft lips pressing against his own, there was no resistance.

Heero stared for a moment, then blinked several times, meanwhile registering the feelings the kiss stirred in him. Those lips, soft and almost fluffy, brushed gently over his; manipulating them, coaxing them apart little by little. It sent a tingle through his body, down his spine… and then a little neural impulse worked its way through his brain, ordering his eyes closed. His lips softened. His body relaxed a touch. His hand crept to Snape’s thigh, pressing lightly whilst he parted his lips and let Snape’s tongue slide over his teeth.

He felt the arm creeping around his waist and almost jumped but a slight squeeze calmed him and he tilted his head back just enough to deepen the kiss, his hand rubbing Snape’s thigh of its own volition. His own tongue pressed hesitantly back, testing and tasting. 

Then, Snape’s arm tightened along with the hand on his neck, and Heero’s eyes flew open as he jumped back, fumbling for his gun. His back hit the wall and he froze there for a moment, trying to figure out what had happened. Once it sunk in, he blushed and looked away. His soldier’s instinct had kicked in, reacting to a possible threat.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Heero forced himself to analyze the long moments before. He dissected his reaction and then Snape’s initiation of the kiss. He sorted through the psychological reasons the man would have for doing it, and then his own for complying. 

A crack resounded and Heero opened his eyes. Snape was gone.

*

Snape grimaced. He sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands. What had he done? Why had he done it? He was losing his head.

It was one thing to love Lucius despite the impossibility of a relationship between them, but Heero? He was just a boy. Granted, he was a strong, mature, clever, and dangerous boy, but he was a boy none-the-less. 

…A very handsome, alluring, and—yes, dangerous boy. That was what it came down to after all. Snape was attracted to danger. That was why he had become a Death Eater in the first place, and also why he had become a double agent when that became too boring. It was why he had had a crush on James Potter, the shining Gryffindor who despised everything about him in the first place.

But it was no excuse. There were too many lives at stake for him to give in to desire in this situation. Heero was right. He should stay away. 

But Heero had kissed him back. Barely; but there was a hesitant tongue brushing his own for a few seconds there…

Growling, Snape whirled out of his chair. Just as he snapped around, Draco Malfoy appeared in his doorway, pale in the dim light.

“I received a message today,” he said quietly.

Snape’s eyes widened and he hushed the boy, gesturing for him to close the door before casting a silencing charm.

“What is it?” Snape asked once he was sure they could not be heard under any circumstances.

“I’m supposed to find out about Heero Yuy,” Draco told him.

Snape almost snarled, baring his teeth. He was silent for a long time before he raised his hand and placed it on his student’s shoulder. “Listen, Draco; I want you to do your best to pry information from Winner. However, keep whatever you find between you and me. As for Mr. Yuy, simply pass on that you can find no evidence that he is connected with the Muggle operatives but that you will keep prying. It is important to add certain phrases like that into a report, so as to-”

“I understand, sir,” Draco interrupted him. 

Snape glowered at him a moment, and then turned away, picking a potion off the shelf and sniffing it to check its condition. “Very well. If you have any dire questions, write them down and disguise them as homework with this.” He handed the transparent potion to Draco. “Just a drop will render any information unreadable to all but who it was meant for. Be careful, though. If someone were to see the result, they may ask questions.”

“Yes, sir… Thank you,” Draco added, uncharacteristically polite.

Snape chose to ignore the uncommon and thus intriguing show of manners for now. “You’d best hurry back to your dorm, now. Do not risk another late visit again, for if you are caught out after hours I shall have no choice but to punish you.”

Draco simply nodded and left, concealing the vial in his robes. Luckily, Snape’s office was not too far from the Slytherin common room and he was able to slip through the kitchens for further concealment along the way.

*

Quatre had woken the instant Draco got out of bed. Concealed by darkness, he had watched the boy re-dress and slip out of the room. Briefly, he considered following, but decided against it. If Draco was up to something it shouldn’t be too hard to discover. For all he knew, Draco had gone off to rendezvous with some girl.

Frowning at the slight pang of jealousy that thought elicited, Quatre turned onto his back. He thought of Duo and Trowa’s teasing the night he had been sorted into Slytherin. Was he more affected by Draco’s looks than he had thought? He couldn’t possibly be attracted to the slimeball’s personality.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Quatre was there to focus on a mission; one he needed to get a handle on, soon… But there was so much to do in the way of schoolwork. He needed to catch up on six years of lessons for some subjects, not to mention the current, upcoming workload that was bound to start flowing in.

He wanted so much to make use of this opportunity, but at the same time, he had a job to do. For the first time, Quatre wondered if he had taken on more than he could possibly handle.

As the door began to creak, Quatre immediately resumed a sleeping position, allowing Draco to slip back into the room, seemingly unnoticed.


	34. Chapter 34

Duo flopped down onto the bed, yawning heavily. He and Trowa had spent a long day exploring the town after arriving so late the night before. First off, they’d visited the Thestrals in the stables before heading to a little café’ called Migsey’s Magical Munches for breakfast.  
   
People had immediately noticed the new folks in town, some glaring at them unfavorably.  
   
Dumbledore had warned them against trying to blend in with wizard’s robes. Most squibs were made fun of if they tried to do so, but he had helped them settle on a halfway point in fashion.  
   
They wore outrageous articles of clothing ranging from large doilies as hats to tuxedo jackets over polka dot pajamas. Needless to say, Duo took great relish in helping Trowa dress that morning.  
   
The clothes seemed to work. Nobody questioned their nature, assuming that they were wizards—or, likely, squibs dressed in Muggle clothing. Apparently they weren’t exactly a rare sight in the village, but the little cottage Dumbledore had procured for them on the outskirts was cause for gossip.  
   
Their waitress, a young woman with a head of blond curls, giggled and grinned at Duo as she placed his juice down on the table. Trowa’s glower didn’t seem to put her off at all, and when she retreated, she winked.  
   
“Seems like a nice little place to settle,” Trowa said quietly over his coffee. His eyes widened as he took a sip, and he looked down into the mug as if there was something startling there that shouldn’t be.  
   
“What is it?” hissed Duo with an edge to his voice. “Is something wrong?”  
   
“Tastes like… sunshine,” Trowa replied breathlessly.  
   
Duo stared at him skeptically. “Sunshine?”  
   
Trowa nodded, and then seemed to realize how stupid that sounded all of a sudden. He shrugged. “It’s good.”  
   
After breakfast, they left Migsey’s, wandering through the residential area towards the center of the. Duo, perceptive as always, picked up on references to a joke shop called Zonko’s, and his mischief radar lead him and Trowa there in record time.  
   
Oblivious to the curious glances of witches and wizards all around them, Duo and Trowa went about Hogsmeade, learning the terrain and studying the people. It was the first of many days they would spend familiarizing themselves with everything around them. Only when they knew what to expect would they recognize what shouldn’t be there should the time come.  
   
Naturally, they saw hide nor hair of Heero, which was all well and good if he was doing his job properly—and, of course, he was. They avoided the Hog’s Head anyway, instead patronizing The Three Broomsticks.  
   
They quickly learned that some shops and people were apt to treat them a little coldly, but Madam Rosmerta was not one of them. In fact, the moment she recognized their lack of magic she added a couple of pep-up peppermints to their order of drinks, drowning them with cheery smiles and a fountain of news from the wizarding world.  
   
All in all, Hogsmeade greeted them more pleasantly than they had expected, and they found the prospect of their stay there rather heartening. Of course, when they returned to the cottage at night, there were no portraits to watch over them and make rude comments, and they quickly became engrossed in one another, forgetting their fatigue as the village slipped from their minds for a little while.  
   
*  
   
Harry scanned the owls as he usually did but there was nothing for him. Meanwhile, Hermione received her Daily Prophet, as usual. As Harry reached for the sugar to drown his cereal, he heard her squeak, and glanced over.  
   
Hermione was staring at the paper in shock. She glanced briefly across the table and then back down at the page. “Oh, no… Oh, no,” she muttered.  
   
“Hermione? What is it?” Harry asked quickly, craning his neck to see what she was looking at.  
   
Before he found it, there was an outburst from a few seats down. Seamus was one of the few not watching Hermione in concern. “Jasmine Brown?” he cried.  
   
Lavender’s head whipped around at him. “What?” she asked. “What about her?”  
   
“Oh, Lavender,” Hermione whispered.  
   
And then Harry saw it, in the obituary section: Jasmine Brown.  
   
There was silence for several long seconds as Seamus’ mouth worked soundlessly, then all of them were startled by a late owl dropping down in front of them. Around them, others started discovering the cause for their concern as they scoured their own Daily Prophets. Meanwhile, Lavender glanced around suspiciously as the owl waited patiently for her to take the letter from its beak.  
   
She had torn open no more than half the envelope when Professor McGonagall appeared at her side, grasping her elbow gently. “Come along, dear. Come with me to my office and we’ll have a little chat.”  
   
The Gryffindors all watched in silence as Lavender was escorted away, her fingers trembling as she tried to finish opening her letter. Everyone tittered around them, but Harry paid no attention.  
   
At first he had felt a sickly fear but that melted quickly into hot, burning anger. There was no doubt in his mind that Lavender’s sister’s death was directly related to Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  
   
“Harry. Harry, come on. Hagrid will be waiting.”  
   
Startled out of his dark thoughts, Harry glanced up at Hermione who was watching him sympathetically.  
   
“Save that for Lavender,” Harry muttered to her as he rose. “I’ll see you later, Wufei,” he added over his shoulder as he stalked off briskly to Care of Magical Creatures.  
   
*  
   
Draco sneered at the paper that morning, quickly turning it into a grin for the sake of his classmates, but he barely commented on the death, adding only a jibe here and there about filthy Gryffindors and serving them right. Quatre was quite silent all during breakfast, staring around disapprovingly at them all.  
   
“Winner.”  
   
Quatre looked up, glaring at him as though he expected to be drawn into the derision, but instead, Draco changed the subject.  
   
“One of our Chasers was injured yesterday and will be out for a while. Don’t suppose you can fly?” Draco asked with the proper amount of disdain added into his voice.  
   
Quatre blinked at him. “Chaser? ...Fly?”  
   
Sighing heavily, Draco ventured into an explanation of a broom and what it was for, then continued on to explain Quidditch with a great amount of sarcasm and rolled eyes at his peers. “If you don’t know what it is you’ll probably be hopeless at it, but I suppose it’s worth a try. Goyle!” His crony snapped to attention. “Lend me your broom for the spare and we’ll see if Quatre can fly.”  
   
After breakfast they made a detour to the common room to pick up the brooms. They almost had a following but Draco told the prospective onlookers to stay behind lest they make Quatre so nervous that the broom would sink into the ground rather than rise.  
   
They made it out to the deserted pitch. Most of the school was up in the castle so they had it to themselves for the whole spare.  
   
After a preliminary explanation, Draco demonstrated, pleased at the way Quatre’s eyes widened as he flew up into the air, did a couple of loops, and then came down to hover by Quatre’s side.  
   
“Try it,” he said, wondering if it was a waste of time.  
   
He was pleasantly surprised.  
   
The broom leapt into Quatre’s hand before he even said “Up,” and he hopped on after glancing uncertainly at Draco. With the Seeker’s instructions, he was zooming around the pitch in no time, his expression exhilarated as he executed complicated loops and whirls.  
   
“This is amazing!” he shouted as he flew past Draco.  
   
Meanwhile, Draco couldn’t help the thought that Quatre was as natural as Potter. Perhaps he was even better, especially considering that this was the first sign of his having any access to his magic. If he relinquished his position of Seeker, they might thrash Gryffindor in the coming match… Besides, Draco was much better at playing Chaser, it was just that they hadn’t been able to find a better Seeker since he’d joined the team. If Quatre proved adept at catching the little Golden Snitch…  
   
“We should get back!” Draco called, keeping his speculation to himself. “Wouldn’t want Trelawney to foresee my boot in her face if she tries to give me detention for being late.”  
   
*  
   
Quatre had never had so much fun. Flying was the most exhilarating experience he had ever had. It was like something inside of him had been freed.  
   
He had to admit that he was pleased by Draco’s shock and grudging respect. Perhaps he would look into this Quidditch thing.  
   
They made it to Divination just on time, filing in behind the last foot scrambling up the ladder. Instantly, Quatre was assaulted by the heavy, sweet fumes. He gagged at first, and froze with his head barely in the room, but continued up as Draco poked his leg.  
   
The Professor’s eyes landed on him at once. “Quatre Raberba Winner,” she said. “Oh yes, I have been expecting you. Come; come, my boy. Take this seat here.” The only table left in the classroom was the one right up the front and both he and Draco took it reluctantly. “Why, you have the air of a Seer about you, my boy. Oh, yes.” She peered at him, her glittering spectacles taking up his vision as she leaned in very close. “I’ll draw the gift out of you yet.”  
   
With that, she turned away with a flourish and lifted a bowl from a stand by the window. “This,” she began, “Is a scrying bowl. Many great Seers have found their visionary power within the ripples and shimmerings of water.”  
   
Her speech dragged on until they were all instructed to look into the bowls set before them. Draco rolled his eyes the moment her back was turned and squinted comically into his bowl until his nose splashed into the water. “I saw something!” he cried. “I saw my face! And then there was this splash, and… Oh… Never mind, still just my reflection. Silly me.” This was met by raucous laughter from their classmates and a deep scowl from Trelawny.  
   
Quatre had been smirking in amusement but Dumbledore had suggested that he take this subject especially, so he removed his focus from Draco’s antics and concentrated on the surface of the water which was shifting ever so slightly after Draco’s plunge into his bowl. It was fascinating the way the water shimmered, picking up the dim light from around the room. He could see his face reflected in its surface but if he shifted his focus just a little it was as though he was looking into a deep lake, the black depths of the bowl hidden in mystery. His focus shifted again and he saw his reflection once more.  
   
No… Not his reflection. It was Draco, his face framed by grass and contorted in pain. Quatre quickly glanced at the boy beside him, then back at the bowl, but the image was gone and he felt like he’d been splashed with cold water.  
   
Just in case he was hallucinating, he focused once more, following the same pattern as he glimpsed the dark depths and then returned his vision to the surface. “Well done, boy. I wonder, can you trace your roots back to anyone… famous? I am the great, great granddaughter of the Seer Cassandra, you know.”  
   
“Draco,” Quatre whispered, his eyes glued to the bowl. “Draco, do you see this?”  
   
“See what?” Draco asked, bored.  
   
“Professor Trelawny asking me if I’m related to-”  
   
“You mean… You actually see something?” Draco muttered, sounding highly doubtful and extremely disdainful. He cast a sneer towards Professor Trelawney.  
   
The Professor’s ears pricked up and she was by their side immediately. “What is it, boy? What do you see?”  
   
“You,” Quatre answered, then shook his head as the vision faded. He looked up. “You were standing right there talking to me.”  
   
“Well done, boy,” she gasped. “I wonder, can you trace your roots back to anyone… famous? I am the great, great granddaughter of the Seer Cassandra, you know.”  
   
“I… My mother’s name was Cassandra,” he said quietly. “My, my grandmother’s name was Aethylla,” he continued at her frown.  
   
“Hmmmm. Well, inherited or not, I have finally been gifted with a worthy student!” the woman exclaimed, her face breaking into a smile once more.  
   
*  
   
“Did you really See it?” Pansy shrieked.  
   
Quatre sighed yet again and affirmed that he had not been making it up… yet again.  
   
“Look, I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for my first Arithmancy lesson,” he told the class. They all departed fairly quickly, still discussing the apparent feat that Quatre had accomplished. Only Draco continued walking with him. “Don’t you have a class now?” Quatre asked hesitantly.  
   
Draco shrugged. “Sure, but I won’t be late. I know a passage that’ll get me there on time. Besides, don’t tell me you have the faintest idea how to get to your classroom.”  
   
“Thanks,” Quatre said with a grin, affirming his suspicions. “Hey, Draco, um… Be careful if you go outside, okay? I can’t be sure, but I think I saw something before Trelawney.”  
   
Draco peered at him suspiciously, then shrugged again. “If you say so,” he said.  
   
*  
   
Harry was sorely tempted to alert Professor Sprout to exactly where she could shove her Petulant Petunias, but he refrained, to Hermione’s great relief. None of the Gryffindors had heard anything from or about Lavender since that morning.  
   
Parvati was absolutely worried sick, her hands shaking as she grasped the plant’s leaves, bruising them heavily. When Professor Sprout rounded on her, she stared at the woman for a second and then ran from the greenhouse, bursting into tears.  
   
Hermione sighed and wiped her wrist across her face, smearing herself with dirt. “Excuse me, Professor,” she called as she took off after the poor girl.  
   
Sprout seemed at a loss.  
   
“Has no one told ye about Lavender’s sister?” asked Seamus Finnegan.  
   
“Why, no. In fact, where is Miss Brown?” the professor asked, suddenly frowning as though she had only just noticed.  
   
The class all glanced around at each other. It was Neville who eventually spoke up.  
   
“It… It was in the paper this morning, Professor,” he began nervously. “Lavender’s sister… Well… Her name was printed in the obituary section…”  
   
“Oh… Oh, dear.”  
   
The professor looked through the window in the direction that Parvati had run, obviously regretting scolding them all. Then, she turned towards them and looked around at their feeble attempts to pot the Petunias. “Perhaps it would be better if class was cancelled for today. Yes, I think that might be beneficial. You had best go and look after your friends.”  
   
*  
   
Lavender did not return. However, Professor McGonagal appeared in the common room that evening. She made an announcement that Lavender would be taking some time off. How long, she could not be sure, but any letters of condolence or comfort could be sent through McGonagal.  
   
All of Gryffindor stayed up in the common room that night. Hermione made a feeble attempt to shoo them all off to bed but gave up rather quickly, shirking her prefect duties for once. She flopped back down onto the couch, putting her arm around Ginny as the girl’s head came to rest on her shoulder.  
   
Everyone was very quiet. The mood was somber and strained. Everyone seemed to want to say something but felt it too insensitive or not their place. Finally, it was a mousy little first year who voiced what most of the people in the room seemed to be thinking.  
   
“I heard it was the killing curse.” The whisper was easily heard in the silent room, and everyone turned to stare at the little girl. She looked around as if startled that her voice had traveled so far, then steeled herself and returned the stares. “That’s what I heard. And if it’s true…” Her eyes landed on Harry. “Who else but… but You-Know-Who could have done it. If he really is back like Harry Potter says, then what if all of our families are in danger? What if we’re in danger right here?” she finished, her voice growing even fainter, though still heard by all as even the crackling fire seemed to grow silent as she spoke.  
   
Harry tried to blend into the couch but he had no hope with all eyes turned to him. “I know you don’t want to believe it,” he said, resignedly. “But he… Voldemort _is_ back, and I’m positive he’s the one who killed Lavender’s sister. If not him, then one of his followers. Someone like Draco Malfoy’s dad or Bellatrix Lestrange who’s killed before. But I also know we’re safer here than anywhere else. As long as Dumbledore is the head of this school, Voldemort won’t come near it.”  
   
And the silence broke. Everyone began talking all at once. Some fired questions at Harry, others began arguing amongst themselves. Fights broke out. Some of the younger girls and evena second-year boy started weeping.  
   
“STOP IT!”  
   
No one heeded the shout.  
   
“ALL OF YOU, STOP IT NOW!!! _DURATUS_!”  
   
The entire room froze mid-sentence, mid-bawl, mid-punch. Only Ginny remained in motion, perched as she was on the edge of the couch. She lost her balance momentarily, then gained it again before glaring around the room.  
   
“Don’t you see? This is what he wants! People fighting, frightened, angry… Chaos. Once the wizarding world comes to realize the truth, that’s exactly what he’ll get and that will make it easy for him to take over once more. So stop it, now!” she pleaded. “You all have to believe Harry when he says that Voldemort is back, and when he says that we’re safe with Dumbledore. I believe it because I’ve seen the proof with my own eyes. I saw his Death Eaters at the ministry. I was there when it was broken into, and I’m not the only one. The Ministry tried to write it off as nothing important, but Voldemort was there himself. He fought Albus Dumbledore, and he fought Harry, and now he’s out there, killing. Jasmine Brown is dead, but I’ll bet anything that’s she’s not the only one. The Ministry of Magic can’t hide the truth of Voldemort’s return for much longer. I just hope you all stand together when that time comes, because that’s all that will save anyone!”  
   
She ran from the room in tears, her spell releasing as she left the vicinity. Hermione ran after her, followed by Ron, who came sliding down the girl’s staircase a short moment later.  
   
Everyone had hushed. Fighters made up, friends comforted those who were crying. The questioners slowly shut their mouths.  
   
“Ginny’s right,” said Harry, his throat dry. “We need to band together; now more than ever.”  
   
With that, he left, followed by Wufei. Ron trudged angrily after them a moment later.  
   
After that, most of the Gryffindor’s made their way up to their respective dormitories in silence.  
   
The next morning, no-one mentioned what had been said the night before, but the house was united as they had never been previously. They were all very helpful towards each other, and nobody said an unkind word. If the teachers and the rest of the school noticed, they never said anything, but Gryffindor was closer than ever before.  
   
In fact, it was rather convenient, what with the impending Quidditch match against Slytherin.


	35. Chapter 35

The following Saturday dawned, the weather only slightly chilly. Everyone headed down to the pitch, an aura of excitement settling over the whole school. The Gryffindor team had never felt so much support from its house, and as a result, their confidence outweighed their nerves.  
   
They entered the stadium to raucous cheers, grinning and waving at their house as well as those seated in the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff sections. The Ravenclaws were obviously hoping for a Gryffindor loss so that their house still had a chance at the cup, but they cheered Gryffindor on anyway. Better them than Slytherin.  
   
All too soon, Harry faced the opposing captain, his eyes only for the Slytherin’s ugly grin. Then, they were up in the air, and Harry, determined to find that snitch so fast it would embarrass Malfoy, began to search.  
   
However, all too soon, he realized that it wasn’t Draco flying above the two teams with him. In fact, Draco was down there intercepting the Quaffle… and Quatre winked at Harry from his broom a few feet away.  
   
His jaw dropping open, Harry fought to contain his shock. How could Quatre… That wasn’t fair… It was like a betrayal! Gritting his teeth, Harry’s determination to find the snitch skyrocketed.  
   
Quatre seemed to be as natural on a broom as he had been in the beginning. Experience had its merits but even if this was the blond’s first match, he was one of those four that had worked with Wufei. Harry had no doubt about his powers of observance. He had to grab the snitch quickly.  
   
Glancing down, Harry saw Ginny score, and a smile spread over his lips as she executed a celebratory loop. Meanwhile, the Slytherin beaters missed their attack on her previous position and the bludgers zoomed on to smack their keeper—one in the stomach and the other grazing his ear.  
   
Pleased, Harry returned to his aerial survey, searching for a glint of gold anywhere… There! Harry saw something down by the Slytherin stands and went for it, laying flat to his broom for acceleration. However, when he got there, he realized that the glint he had seen was actually somebody’s overly large golden brooch. Scowling in disgust, he turned practically on the tail of his broom and rose as he scoured the stands, deciding to make a lap of the pitch.  
   
Gryffindor was winning, though Draco Malfoy had scored several goals for his team, surprising almost everyone. Meanwhile, Quatre was patiently flying back and forth over the pitch, his eyes calmly glancing about.  
   
It suddenly occurred to Harry that the Slytherins had not yet tried any dirty tricks. He wondered what they might be keeping up their sleeves.  
   
*  
   
Quatre frowned as Harry went zooming toward the Slytherins again. He followed a little more sedately. This was the third time. What was it that kept drawing Harry over there in such a rush?  
   
The first time, Quatre had almost panicked, thinking Harry had seen the snitch. In a brief loss of confidence, he had stayed where he was. Harry had had such a head start and he was a much more experienced player. If he’d seen the snitch then Quatre had no chance of catching it.  
   
This time, Quatre followed a little more sedately. He got there just as Harry glowered darkly and took off elsewhere. Glancing down, Quatre saw one of the girls take a large, shiny gold hairpin out and tuck it into her robes with a grin.  
   
It only took Quatre a moment to figure it out, and he was absolutely flabbergasted. His house had been luring Harry over from the other end of the pitch with shiny objects that would seem to be the golden snitch from far away.  
   
The irrational urge to berate them all after the game came over Quatre, but he quashed it. He already stood out too much from his late entry to the school. He didn’t want any of the Slytherin’s questioning his belonging in their house.  
   
Still, he couldn’t abide by cheating. That simply wasn’t right. Poor Harry. Quatre had to get a message to Wufei that he hadn’t known anything about this tactic and that he was sorry.  
   
No, he couldn’t really do that either. His cover would be blown clear away if anyone intercepted such a message.  
   
Well, at least Harry seemed to have caught on. This time, he didn’t rise to the bait of a golden glint above one of the Slytherin students at the top of the stands.  
   
Above…? That really was the snitch! Quatre wavered, indecisive. He wished he could send some kind of signal to Harry but that was impossible—and silly. It was just a game, after all. Besides, if he caught the snitch, the Slytherins would win the match and that would probably do more for Quatre’s cover than anything amount of brown-nosing.  
   
It was only a game, after all.  
   
Quatre took off, his eyes only for the snitch. He dodged a bludger almost out of instinct and then, several seconds later, he stretched out his hand. Only, the golden snitched flitted quickly to one side and then shot straight up in the air.  
   
Following, Quatre felt the air rushing about him. Only then did he realize that he would fall a million miles to his death if his hands slipped. This in mind, he gripped tightly with his legs and hugged the broom for dear life.  
   
The snitch’s path flattened out. Quatre twisted, relieved as he was flying horizontal again. Harry was zooming in on a diagonal, his face set in determination. Quatre found himself willing every ounce of speed out of his broom. He was so close. Just a little farther and his fingers would curl around that little golden ball.  
   
There was a sickening crunch down below. Quatre heard it, but he resisted the urge to look. The snitch was right there!  
   
Someone screamed, and then the snitch was in his hand. It took Quatre a few seconds to realize that he had actually caught it. His team had won the game!  
   
Grinning in elation, he looked down at his team. Suddenly he registered those sounds that had penetrated his snitch-crazed mind. Draco was no longer in the air, and there was a figure lying on the grass, broom splintered about him.  
   
Horrified, Quatre dived, holding out the snitch so Madam Hooch would identify it and signal an end to the match. He landed roughly, his legs jarring, and then dropped the broom, rushing towards Draco. Could he be dead? That would have been a nasty fall…  
   
As he got closer, Quatre remembered his vision in the scrying bowl—Draco’s face contorted in pain… This had to be what he’d seen!  
   
“Draco!” he cried, skidding to his knees beside the boy. There was a small crowd but Quatre momentarily forgot that there were teachers here who could help the boy with magic. His mind switched to emergency mode and he scanned Draco’s body with his eyes, searching for any obvious signs of broken bones or fatal internal wounds.  
   
One arm was cradled against Draco’s chest, the bones smashed up, and Draco’s robes seemed to sink in a little on his right. Had a bludger crushed his ribs?  
   
Draco’s lips released from their tight pursing and he gasped. As he tried to speak, blood bubbled up his throat and a little spilled over his lips.  
   
“Don’t try to speak!” Quatre moaned.  
   
Draco’s ribs had to have punctured his lung. There was nothing Quatre could do! He began to panic, terrified that Draco was going to die.  
   
Then, their eyes locked, and Quatre knew that he wasn’t feeling his own emotions. He didn’t panic like this. He’d seen enough people die that one boy was sad, but nowhere near as devastating as he had begun to feel.  
   
Draco’s uninjured arm reached out and Quatre took his hand. Dark eyes shone with pain and tears, but… There was something else there…  
   
Quatre suddenly felt like he didn’t want Draco to leave him—Draco especially. It would be so very sad for them to be parted like this just when he was beginning to feel love for the first time…  
   
As if stung, Quatre snatched back his hands and then scrambled away. He shook his head slowly, his eyes locked onto Draco’s.  
   
Whose feeling had that been? Draco’s? Or his? Either way it could not be a good thing. And if Draco died…  
   
“Come on, boy. Get out of the way!” snapped a deep, resonant voice.  
   
Quatre looked up to see Professor Snape standing beside him. The man hauled him to his feet.  
   
“He’s dying,” Quatre breathed, glad that his voice sounded less terrified than rational.  
   
The Professor’s eyes widened in surprise and his brows arched. He glanced at Draco briefly before his eyes returned to Quatre.  
   
“Have you forgotten so quickly where you are?” he asked derisively. “Poppy will see to him. He will be fine.”  
   
He spoke with the air of one trying to convince himself, and Quatre was mildly surprised to see that the man could care for anyone’s hide but his own. Then again, perhaps he had misjudged Snape. Quatre and the other Gundam Operatives knew more than anyone else how easy it was to bury one’s emotions. Perhaps this man had done the same out of necessity.  
   
“Indeed, here she is,” Snape continued, his voice calm, though perhaps a little disapproving for the time it had taken.  
   
“Get out!” the nurse cried. “Give him space! Students and teachers alike! I want you all gone!”  
   
She began to mumble under her breath about life-threatening sports as the headmaster began to organize teachers into shooing students away. Snape spun around with a flick of his cloak and made to stride off but he was stopped.  
   
“Not you, Professor Snape. As his head of house you’ll have to stay here,” Madame Pomfrey ordered, though her last sentence was spoken gently, and those present understood the silent _just in case_.  
   
“Run along now,” Snape said, turning to Quatre before he returned to Draco’s side, flopping gracefully down to the grass at his charge’s side. “Is there anything I can do?” Quatre heard the man say as he slowly joined the crowd heading away from the site of the incident.  
   
*  
   
Wufei was ready for Harry’s angry tirade, and listened patiently the moment the door to his private room closed behind them. The moment he’d seen Quatre on the opposing team, he’d been preparing himself to listen to his lover’s complaints.  
   
His loyalties were mildly divided after the events of the match. After all, it was just a game. Harry was prone to take Quidditch very seriously but at the end of the day, the results would soon be forgotten. For Quatre, on the other hand, winning was an ideal opportunity to gain his peers’ respect and trust.  
   
Wufei was, however, worried about Quatre’s strange actions at Draco Malfoy’s side. Either he was acting very well, or his true emotions were surfacing as he settled into a mission that was perilously close to the circumstances to which Quatre truly belonged.  
   
Of course, Wufei wasn’t one to talk. Ever since he had met Harry his emotions had taken control of him.  
   
Smiling to himself at the warmth of that thought, Wufei grabbed the pacing Harry and flopped down onto the bed, holding his boyfriend captive in his lap. “Shhh, love,” he whispered. “It’s just a game.”  
   
“It’s not just a-“  
   
Wufei gently kissed Harry’s earlobe. “Just as game. Though I understand how important that can be with the worries you have. A game can seem like the end of the world if we want it to.”  
   
Harry snorted indignantly. “‘The worries I have?’ Worries!? You mean, the fact that I have no choice but to face the most evil being ever known to mankind with nothing but a stick?”  
   
“And lots of magic—and five trained killers dedicated to preserving your life, and for all I know, any number of wizards who are your friends and mentors,” Wufei added patiently. “You’re not alone, Harry, and if you don’t know that by now then you’ll find out, even if it’s just me standing beside you. I will be. No matter what, you know I will.”  
   
“You’re right. It is just a game.” Harry was quiet for a time, thinking over the far greater tragedies that permeated his life. “The rest of the house probably won’t see it that way,” he finally sighed. “But you’re right. I have so much more to worry about than thrashing Slytherin.”  
   
Wufei resisted the urge to wince. He hadn’t meant to remind Harry of the darker and more dangerous problems he had, but Harry had to remember that Quidditch wasn’t the end of the world or he would be distracted from staying wary of real danger. Now, it was Wufei’s job to cheer him up.  
   
“The rest of the house will have to wait to get their hands on you,” he breathed into Harry’s ear, his hand creeping down Harry’s clothed stomach. “You lost, my dear, so I must take it upon myself to punish you…”  
   
“What happened to ‘It’s just a game’?” Harry replied, his voice growing breathier as Wufei’s fingers encouraged his awakening erection.  
   
“One must take punishment as well as reward, and what else are games if not a medium to one of these ends?” Wufei retorted.  
   
“I should lose more often if this is your idea of punishment,” Harry whispered, his head rolling back onto Wufei’s shoulder.  
   
Wufei grinned. Who said punishment had to hurt?

*

With the surprising exception of one Harry Potter, Gryffindor was in rather low spirits for the next few days. The triumph of a win against Slytherin might have allowed them to forget about poor Lavender Brown for a while but a loss only seemed to emphasize that tragedy.

Meanwhile, the Slytherins were in fine form. Draco Malfoy had been pronounced safe a few hours after the game—not that his condition had inhibited the celebrations any, much to Quatre’s disgust—and the green house enjoyed nothing more than holding something over the Gryffindors' heads. Especially when they were already suffering.

Quatre became a veritable hero. He was constantly mentioned, often praised and bragged about, and more than a few girls—and guys—had shown a sudden interest in him. All in all, he was fitting in quite nicely.

Actually, Draco had been confined to bed for a day after being released from the infirmary and to Quatre’s surprise, he had actually been much more genial during that time. It almost felt like he and Quatre were becoming friends.

Draco had at first been reluctant to believe that Quatre really had forseen his accident but once Quatre recapped the vision to him, he’d come across. It was probably Quatre’s over-reaction at the time of the accident that appealed to Draco’s sense of reality, for the emotions that had stormed him at the time were a secret he kept to himself.

*

“Legilimens!”

Harry staggered. For the first time in a long while, Cedric Diggory’s cold, dead face rose up in his mind. Sirius’ body falling through that awful black curtain followed. Dreams of Voldemort split the images, including the vision Dementors had previously produced of Harry’s parents' deaths.

Next thing he knew, he was on the concrete and Snape’s face was sneering over him.

“Pathetic, Potter,” Snape sniveled, his voice absolutely dripping with disdain.

Harry blinked up at him, still dazed by the horrible images that had been strangely far away of late. He thought of Wufei and felt a little guilty. Had he forgotten what was important? Was he being selfish, wallowing in his relationship with Wufei? He didn’t have time to peruse the thought any further because he was on his feet before he knew it as Snape was hurling a piece of chalk at him.

“Pay attention, Potter!” he snapped. “Remember that you begged me for this. If you do not focus, I shall not be swayed again!”

“I’m sorry… sir,” Harry said reluctantly. He closed his eyes for a moment, intending to gather his mental forces, but Snape was just that much of a bastard.

“Legili-”

This time, Harry reacted on instinct. Before he was even ready, it was like a wall sprang up in his mind. Without a word, without a gesture, he repelled Snape’s invasion. Some of the spell leaked in through cracks in Harry’s mental cement but all Snape achieved was an impression of Harry’s mood and a craving for Steak and Kidney Pie.

“Finally, Potter,” the Potions Master sighed exasperatedly.

He couldn’t even offer one word of praise, could he?

“Was that… it? Did I do it?” Harry gasped.

“To an extent, yes,” Snape replied, sounding almost disappointed in Harry’s success. “However, what matters is not that you achieved partial Occlumency once, but that you do it again. And again. And ag-“

Harry was barraged with memories of the more foul detentions he’d experienced but it only got worse, leading into a memory of Lupin’s suicide attempt. That forced Harry into action and he fought Snape out of his mind, slumping against a nearby desk, soaked in sweat and exhausted. He raised his eyes tiredly to Snape.

The Professor wore a sour expression. “Again, Potter,” he said, simply.

Harry succeeded only once more that night and the result was even less complete than his first success but he stumbled up to Gryffindor Tower pleased with his progress—even if Snape was not. He went to his own room, slipping inside and slowly closing the door so as not to wake the others.

“Harry.”

He turned around.

They were all up. It was Ron who had spoken. 

“Yeah?” he asked, the question punctuated by a yawn. He finished with a frown. “What are you all doing up?”

“Look, mate, we’ve all been thinking, and we want ye to restart the DA,” answered Seamus.

“What? But you weren’t even in it!” Harry argued.

“That’s not the point,” Dean replied. “If even Neville—sorry Neville—was able to fight Death Eaters after learning from you, then we reckon we could really do with your help.”

“Who all is ‘we’?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Well, you see mate…” Ron looked around a bit nervously. “A lot of people are interested this time around. A lot of people are scared, too.”

“Maybe they’d feel a bit better if they could take part in the DA,” Neville spoke up. “If they were practicing how to really defend themselves… We could do so much more with backing from the school,” he added.

Harry looked around at his friends. Suddenly, he realized how long it had been since he’d hung out with any of them aside from Ron. They really were great pals, despite some of the rocky times they’d had over the past few years.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” said Seamus. “Winter is coming on fast and we’ll be off for Christmas holidays soon. We could start when we get back…”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Thanks guys.”

Overcome by exhaustion, he bid them all goodnight and crawled into a bed it felt like he hadn’t slept in for several weeks. Still, he fell asleep thinking about Wufei. Well, rather, thinking about showing off in front of Wufei as he led a session of a new and improved DA. Hadn’t Professor Peacecraft mentioned something about reviving the club…?


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (FYI, This is the second chapter in this update so skip back one if you were already up to date!)

Snape stood at his desk, polishing his wand. He was busy reflecting on the somewhat productive lesson he had just completed with Potter. Finally… Finally the technique was beginning to sink in. Finally Potter had managed to uncover the true form of Occlumency. Unfortunately, it would take a great deal of practice for him to truly be able to implement it. That meant many continued lessons…  
   
Suddenly, Snape froze. An icy trickle graced his spine.  
   
Slowly, he looked down at his arm. The Dark Mark was writhing slightly as though jostled from sleep. It did not burn, but rather, it stung of cold.  
   
Without really knowing why, Snape left the dungeons immediately, making his way fast across the grounds. He kept to the shadows so as not to be seen and took a wide berth around Hagrid’s hut.  
   
The moment he was outside the grounds, the odd sensation became clear.  
   
There, standing right in front of Hogwarts, was Lucius Malfoy. He seemed… less. Less than Snape remembered. Less than healthy.  
   
His features were pallid and he leaned heavily on his cane. When Snape approached, he looked up slowly, taking several slightly heaving breaths.  
   
“Severus,” he whispered in relief.  
   
“Lucius!” Snape’s eyes widened and he rushed towards his friend who seemed to need support. “You’re not-”  
   
“There’s no time,” Lucius argued, cutting him off. “Take it.” He pushed a jar into Snape’s hands. “Ether,” he explained. “He’s consulting with Dementors… Squib’s can see… Soon…”  
   
“Lucius, what have you done to cause this weakness?” Snape asked, stricken.  
   
“No time,” Lucius argued, growing weaker by the moment. But when Snape didn’t immediately leave him, he made an effort to explain. “Manipulated our marks. He didn’t feel it.”  
   
Suddenly Snape understood. Lucius had drawn him out with a private summons through the Dark Mark, which was supposed to be for _his_ use only. Somehow, he had managed the feat but it had taken too much out of him… Far too much.  
   
“I can’t leave you here, Lucius,” he said.  
   
His old friend and lover collapsed in his arms and Snape briefly panicked. Then, he fumbled for a potion in his robes, one that might buy some time. He poured it down the man’s throat then cast a spell to levitate Lucius, hurrying back across the dark, empty grounds towards the hidden entrance to the Shrieking Shack. Lucius would be safe there until he could return.  
   
“Hold on,” he breathed, unable to resist pressing his lips to Lucius’ unconscious forehead before he hurried back out, Apparating the moment he was free of the grounds.  
   
When he arrived in Heero’s room in the Hog’s Head Tavern, he was greeted with a disturbing sight. Yuy was clutching his arm and rolling, his veins popping as strangled sounds clawed from his throat.  
   
Snape recognized the summons without needing to have seen it previously. It was particularly cruel, and perfectly Voldemort’s style. There wasn’t much time.  
   
Rushing to the boy, Snape unscrewed the lid of the jar Lucius had risked his life to pass on. It was Ether, a substance that would allow Heero to see Dementors; allow him to witness things that no Muggle could ever dream of, that even a Squib was entitled to as a descendent of wizards. If he could not see the Dementors, the Dark Lord would instantly know of their deception, and perhaps that was the test. But with Ether, there was a chance. If he could just…  
   
Snape tipped the jar up, the bright substance pouring down Yuy’s throat, even as his body convulsed and contracted. He swallowed though he coughed and choked, trusting the imploring look in Snape’s eyes where he might not have done a week ago.  
   
“You have Lucius to thank for this,” Snape said coldly, though his anger was for Voldemort, not for the stricken boy before him. “Without it, death would await you.”  
   
Moments after Snape wiped the residue from Yuy’s lips, the boy disappeared in a slow, curling film of slimy black smoke. He was gone. Summoned.  
   
*  
   
Agony. Sheer agony.  
   
Not as the Cruciatus curse but different enough to rival it. It was like Heero’s body had been deconstructed and then pieced together again in the most painful way possible.  
   
Once the procedure was complete, he lay prone on the ground, twitching and barely breathing until he regained control of his body. Meanwhile, whatever Snape had fed him was whizzing through his blood like a drug.  
   
For a moment, he thought he was seeing in fluorescent, but it passed, and his eyes slowly landed on the one who had summoned him so cruelly. Then, his eyes drifted to something else, something dark and forbidding that seemed to suck all of the pleasure out of him, until he was left as nothing but a husk of-  
   
“Leave!” came a soft hiss.  
   
The ‘something dark’ left and Heero wanted to cry for the pure kernels of joy that came back to him, which he had never known he had held onto. Voldemort’s command had distracted him from a memory that had begun to surface—one he never wanted to relive.  
   
“Rise, boy,” The Dark Lord’s whispering voice ordered.  
   
Heero struggled to his feet, suppressing the pain, suppressing the memories…  
   
“Yes, My Lord?” he asked gruffly, dipping his head in a respectful bow.

*

“I have for you a task,” Voldemort began, his slitted eyes taking in the filthy Squib before him.  
   
Frankly, Kushrenada was not an obstacle to him. Had he known how the Muggle world had evolved with its pathetic politics, he would have cast the Imperius curse on the Muggle fool long ago. However, Kushrenada was the one versed in Muggle dealings, and if Voldemort’s empire was to spread beyond Britain, beyond scattered wizarding communities into the greater portion of the world, he would need one of their kind until his objectives were reached. Only then would all of the Muggle race be under his control—his to let live and die as he wished. That said, Severus was correct in his thinking. Kushrenada was unreliable due to his own ambitions. If he was fool enough to ally with a wizard far more powerful than he could ever dream, he probably thought he could somehow gain the upper hand. For that reason, sending one loyal to Voldemort himself into Kushrenada’s midst was not an over-calculation, but rather, a convenient tool. One could kick a pebble if one bothered, but it was far easier to simply flick it away with barely a kernel of magic.  
   
“You will gain Kushrenada’s trust. You will infiltrate his inner circle. If the signal comes, then you will sabotage him from within. Do you understand?” Voldemort asked, though it was far more of a command than a question.  
   
“Clearly,” Heero acknowledged with another bow.  
   
“If you fail in this task…” Voldemort’s thin lips spread in a sneering parody of a smile.  
   
“You will kill me,” Heero Yuy pre-empted.  
   
He was, however, incorrect.  
   
“I will render apart Severus Snape,” he threatened with delight.  
   
The boy’s reaction was more than satisfactory. He turned a shade paler, his eyes registering fear for the first time since Voldemort had first met their steady gaze.  
   
His assumption had been correct. Oh, he had no doubt of Severus’ pathetic feelings. Useful as the man was, he stank of humanity under all of that potion residue. He had once been involved with that embarrassment of a blood, Malfoy. Now, the even greater signs of his affection towards Heero Yuy were not to be missed. The risk had been in whether or not that ‘affection’ was returned. The miserable Squib had little worth fearing in terms of his own worthless life. Voldemort’s only insurance was that he would care enough for Severus to merit the threat.  
   
“I will not fail,” Yuy said curtly.  
   
“See that you do not,” Voldemort urged before sending the eyesore away. “Malfoy!”  
   
Rather than the familiar, disfigured man with stark white hair, a thin, pale, blond woman approached. “Yes, Dark Lord?” she asked, her thin voice thick with respect and fear.  
   
“What is mine shall be returned to me,” he said coldly, progressing to another matter. “Your husband belongs to me and he should do very well to remember such. At the least, I will have his corpse to appease the appetite of my snake.”  
   
“Yes… Dark Lord,” the woman all but whispered, her fear as thick as blood on her tongue.  
   
“My Lord…?” prompted the deranged figure of Bellatrix Lestrange from his right hand shadow.  
   
“No. You are required elsewhere, though your task will be obvious should your sister fail in her duty,” he offered, his eyes fixed on Narcissa Malfoy’s still reverently bent head.  
   
It would be a shame to do away with her.  
   
*  
   
Snape waited. He was torn. He wanted both to return to Lucius, and to know what happened to Heero. Never before had he felt such indecision.  
   
Lucius needed him. He was weak and exhausted to his limits.  
   
Heero may already be dead, though Snape would not know until he was summoned, or until the boy returned.  
   
Everything in him told Snape that it made sense to see to Lucius and then return to witness Heero’s condition. However, he could not bring himself to leave. He kept hesitating, sure that it would only be another few seconds…  
   
And then Heero was there, briefly screaming in agony before his jaws clamped shut in an effort to mask his pain. Snape’s heart stopped and he gathered the boy into his arms, cradling him as if the action could impart some sense of comfort, some-  
   
“Get the hell out of here!” Heero snarled, his eyes spitting fire at Snape, though it was dampened by the agony in them.  
   
“I will not leave,” Snape replied, firmly but quietly, understanding that his decision had been made and that he had chosen Heero over Lucius the moment he left Hogwarts, Ether in hand.  
   
Heero struggled viciously but Snape held him impassively, wondering detachedly where this sudden vehemence had come from. Certainly, Heero would never submit to coddling but the reaction was a tad over the top.  
   
His heart still twisting with regret for the fact that Lucius would not get his aid until he had properly dealt with Heero, Snape carried the boy over to the bed. He gently laid Heero down.  
   
“Ether is a dangerous substance. It forces magic into non-magical people, forces them to accept something unnatural to them, something that they are not equipped to handle. Your body will rebel, and when it does, it will not be… pleasant.” Snape was already mentally preparing for what was to come and he felt cold, numb all over just at the thought. “The benefits are only temporary but the side effects can last indefinitely if left untreated. How Lucius managed to procure…” Snape cut off, his throat closing with emotion as he acknowledged Lucius’ incredible sacrifice.  
   
There was only one way to pruduce Ether; it was the byproduct created when one destroyed a wand—a process consuming a large portion of the magic allowed to a personage. Lucius had not procured it at all. He had created it using his own wand.  
   
What Snape had believed to be exhaustion induced by casting a dangerous and difficult spell was actually the effects of having over half of his magic ripped from him. And for what? For a Muggle? A Muggle boy that Lucius wouldn’t even think twice about exterminating?  
   
There was something more here. Something more in Lucius’ motives… and something else that Heero seemed to be holding out from him as the boy avoided his eyes, trembling in sheer pain.  
   
The effects of the transportation had already passed. Heero’s body was now reacting to the Ether.  
   
“Severus.”  
   
Snape snapped around, his heart leaping into his throat.  
   
“Narcissa,” he breathed, his eyes widening in horror. How had she found him? How did she know? “What are you doing here?” he tried to ask calmly, his throat choked with worry.  
   
“I knew you would be tending to him,” she said, tilting her head toward the suffering boy.  
   
Snape slowly raised his wand, about to offer a threat, but the woman hadn’t even reached for hers.  
   
“Just because Lucius is in love with you,” she said calmly, “does not mean that my husband keeps secrets from me. What he knows, I know.”  
   
“What business do you have here?” he asked, uncertain of anything at all.  
   
“I just want to find my husband,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what he has done but whatever it is… He needs me.”  
   
Snape looked into the woman’s eyes and pitied her. He knew that his and Lucius’ love had been a thorn in their marriage for years, something that even Draco’s birth could not assuage. Worse, he knew that she would never reconcile with what Lucius had done, so first he needed to know why…  
   
“He does,” Snape agreed, though before he would impart any more information, he asked his own important question. “What happened before he left?”  
   
“The Dark Lord,” Narcissa began, her eyes shifting to Heero, twisting slightly on the bed, “Has lowered the worth of your life to that of this… Muggle,” she said, distaste plastered in every pore of her skin. “He gloated to Lucius that he would threaten this boy with your life, and Lucius…” Her eyes now returned to Snape, blazing with hatred. “Lucius took him at his word. The fool actually believed _his_ favorite toy would suffer the consequences for such an insignificant plot.”  
   
Snape felt sick. Truly sick. He might just vomit.  
   
Lucius had thrown away his gift for nothing!  
   
He staggered. That Lucius loved him enough to do so was nothing compared to the overwhelming, sickening remorse, the guilt, the… Voldemort would never do away with Snape for something so trivial! Surely he would have seemed convincing but Lucius should know by now, he should…  
   
“He’s in the Shrieking Shack,” Snape squeezed out, though the effort to speak almost made him wretch. “You’ll have to sneak onto the Hogwarts grounds and enter through the Whomping Willow. The knot on-”  
   
“I’d rather Apparate,” the woman cut him off coldly.  
   
Of course. They weren’t children anymore. Funny how it had never occurred to him to do the same. The Shireking Shack wasn't on Hogwarts grounds.  
   
“Narcissa!” he called, before the woman could leave. “Lucius has…” How could he tell her? How could he say it?  
   
Her eyes once more slid to Heero who was sweating profusely, even as every hair on his body prickled as though infused with static. “I know the effects of Ether when I see it,” she told him, the stony look in her eyes breaking Snape’s heart.  
   
The next second, she was gone.  
   
Snape forced the spear of ice from his spine, shaking it off and returning to Heero’s side. Now was not the time to be distracted.  
   
As he worked quickly, using a complicated method of summoning and transfiguring that brought to him already existing potions, a realization suddenly washed over him. No wonder Heero had tried to push him away.  
   
Before Snape had even acknowledged it himself, Voldemort had seen something of his growing emotion for Heero in his eyes, and the Dark Lord had turned that against the boy. Heero must have feared for him, falling into the same trap as Lucius.  
   
“Fool,” he whispered under his breath. “As if my life is of as little worth as yours,” he scolded, though the words were colored with affection. “I was talking about you,” he added, noticing Heero’s glassy eyes staring almost blankly at him.  
   
“I’m sorry… I called him… a coward,” Heero breathed, his lips set into a grim line between the words. He must have registered enough of the conversation to understand that Lucius had sacrificed something to save his life, though probably not the extent of it.  
   
Snape said nothing, he simply began to mix and measure the potions he had conjured that were now no longer lining the shelves of his most private stores. He wasn’t going to let Lucius’ sacrifice amount to nothing. Though Heero’s life meant little to the man, Snape realized suddenly that it meant everything to him, and if he was careful and quick, he could salvage it. Thanks to Lucius.  
   
While Ether was dangerous, Voldemort was little more than a promise of death for all those that crossed his path. Snape’s would come sooner or later. All of theirs would. But for now… For now there was a sparkle of hope in a heart Snape had thought was cold and dead.

*

Frankly, if anyone had thought they could keep Duo Maxwell away from a place called The Shrieking Shack, they were sorely mistaken. Besides, it was his duty to explore and memorize the territory. It could come in handy some day.  
   
Duo was, however, disappointed not to hear anything remotely like shrieking. In fact, he heard nothing.  
   
Using his considerable skills and nimble-fingered stealth, he snuck inside the run-down old shack, looking around in awe. It was incredible. There were slashes all over the place as though a wild animal had gone nuts in there…  
   
And there, in the corner, was something akin to a wild animal. Although, rather than going nuts, it was curled in on itself, trembling faintly but too weak to move voluntarily.  
   
“Oi! You okay?” he called, rushing to the poor animal’s side.  
   
Almost vacant eyes shifted to look up at him and Duo thought he recognized the gaze of a man who had been tortured to within an inch of his life. That hideous scar did nothing to help the image.  
   
“Get away from him!” shrieked a woman’s voice all of a sudden.  
   
Next thing Duo knew, a wand was pointed at him. He scrambled away on his backside, staring up into the face of a woman taut with stress.  
   
“Woah. Look, lady, I wasn’t hurting him. I found him like that. Just let me-”  
   
“Don’t. Move.”  
   
Her voice shook, fraught with fury and fear, and as her trembling wand continued to point at Duo, her eyes shifted to the man on the floor. Duo was no fool. He wasn’t going to wait for another opportunity. In the moment she averted her gaze, he pounced, dodging a potential strike and then wrenching the wand from her fingers and tossing it across the room.  
   
She whirled on him but he jumped out of the way and held up her hands. “Now we’re even,” he said. “Now what the hell is going on here?”  
   
The woman’s eyes widened, seemingly in understanding. “You’re one of them,” she breathed, and Duo did not like the tone of her voice.  
   
She made to lunge for the wand but a weak croak that should have been a yell stopped them both mid-leap.  
   
“Nooo.”  
   
“Lucius?” Her eyes still on Duo, the woman could not resist half turning her head; but she had at least learned her lesson. “If we take him, we can say you set out to capture one of them. We’ll tell him you didn’t really run. He’ll not only forgive you, he’ll reward you!”  
   
Duo suddenly realized he may have gotten himself into a spot of trouble. If his instincts were right, then this _he_ was that certain Dark Lord that Duo didn’t really want to meet, and he’d stumbled across something complicated that he really didn’t want to be involved in.  
   
“Kill me if you must, Narcissa, but I won’t bow to him any longer. I’ve had enough,” Lucius breathed, not moving, though his eyes shifted from one to the other. “I’ve had enough…”  
   
“You’re dying!” she shrieked. “Because of him! You’re dying for him and... and that boy! When you told me he was a Muggle, I thought… I should have… It isn’t worth it, Lucius! Don’t throw everything away!”  
   
“I already have, love,” Lucius replied.  
   
Tears now streamed freely down the woman’s face, almost out of nowhere. “He’ll kill Draco. He’ll take everything from me.”  
   
“He won’t kill Draco… Because you’re going to kill me and redeem yourself and our son,” Lucius told her.  
   
The woman—Narcissa—seemed to freeze solid. She was like a block of ice with her pale skin and her light hair. The tears on her cheeks could have been rivulets of melting water.  
   
“No.”  
   
Suddenly she was in motion again, and Duo had his gun out as she strode to the weak man and plucked several hairs from his head.  
   
“No.”  
   
The next thing Duo knew, she was gone, leaving him pointing his gun at an empty wall.  
*Severus sat stroking Heero’s sweaty hair back from his face. There was nothing he could do save to trickle various potions down the boy’s throat at specific intervals. He only hoped it would be enough and feared it would not.  
   
Beneath the worry for his young… parter… curled the splinter of ice that was fear and guilt for Lucius Malfoy, and so he sat there, staring at Heero’s wide-eyed, staring face. Ether was a terrible thing. It was currently acting like a drug, reducing one of the cleverest, sharpest, and most driven people Snape had ever known to a staring, drooling idiot. In some ways, it was worse than witnessing the wracking pain.  
   
He had no idea how long the current effect would last. He’d never had a chance to study the effects of Ether before and he prayed that he never would again.  
   
For the second time in a relatively short while, he spun as someone Apparated into the room. He saw Narcissa once more, a near dead body at her feet, its hair clutched ruthlessly in her hand as she dragged it before her, stopping directly before Severus.  
   
“I need Polyjuice,” she told him.  
   
Snape felt yet another twisting of guilt as he realized that he hadn’t even questioned Narcissa. He had assumed she feared for her husband but now it made perfect sense to him that she had been sent to exterminate Lucius, and had probably intended to do just that at the time…  
   
“The effect won’t last,” Snape said simply. “He’ll know.”  
   
“Not if I feed my dear husband to that pet of his, myself,” Narcissa replied.  
   
Snape had always appreciated her willingness to do what she must but now he feared it. There was a wild gleam to Narcissa’s eye and he worried that she had finally been pushed over the edge by Lucius’ recklessness.  
   
He looked down at the unconscious stranger the dragged with her. He didn’t know who it was. It could be a Muggle or a wizard for all he knew, but it ws apparent to him that he agreed with Narcissa on this one thing. His life was worth less than Lucius’. Snape had done worse in his tenure as a spy and a Death Eater.  
   
“Very well.”  
   
Feeling exhaustion start to settle on his shoulders, Snape conjured up yet another potion. He swayed as he passed the polyjuice to Narcissa.  
   
There was a reason this type of spell was not commonly used. Snape, while his magical stamina was vast, was beginning to feel the effects of sparring mind to mind with Harry and now casting such difficult magic under such strenuous circumstances.  
   
To hell with Dumbledore. Snape was taking tomorrow off.

*

“Leave me.”  
   
“No way. I’ve gotta get you out of here before that crazy woman comes back,” Duo argued, dragging Lucius under the armpits.  
   
“That crazy woman is my wife,” Lucius replied, managing a faint air of dignity though his tone was weary.  
   
“All the more reason to get you as far away as possible,” Duo argued emphatically, boosting his pace. “Then,” he added, “you can tell me what exactly is going on, and why I feel like you deserve my help.”  
   
And maybe that explanation would settle Trowa before Duo ended up with a pair of strong hands around his throat. Oh yeah, Trowa was gonna kill him.  
   
Well, he was gonna try…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a preview of Chapter 37 (and a rant about the bad habit that is overuse of sighing) visit my fic dump/blog Ryanth's Scrapyard: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9330581/chapters/21369167


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